Shattered by Magic Read online

  I take everything I can fit into a duffle bag but leave most of Ella’s stuff. I hate to do it, but if we do manage to pull off her rescue mission, I doubt the government will have confiscated her clothes. I take her camera bag with me and a few of her favourite bits and pieces though, just in case.

  Beryl, David’s mother, has a five-bedroom house in one of the nicest parts of London. She won’t mind an extra bag of things—and a cat. Algernon has barely moved since I left him this morning, but he watches me with interest as I shove clothes into a backpack.

  We regroup outside the house in less than half an hour, although a good five minutes of that involved me convincing the cat to get into a duffel bag. We drain the nearest cash machine of as much money as it will give us, before hailing a black cab to take us to Beryl’s. Pay has never been stingy at the ATU, and between us we have plenty to survive off for more than a few weeks.

  The cab journey is uneventful, each of us keeping quiet until we’re somewhere secure enough to work out our next steps, and in my head I replay the events of the day over and over, until I feel sick. I look across to Marco, who’s eyeing up the duffel bag warily.

  “What is it?” I whisper.

  He pulls his eyes from the twitching hold-all and looks at me. “It’s your cat,” he replies quietly.

  “I know, I know. Animal cruelty and all that, but he’s quite happy in there, honest,” I say, feeling slightly guilty.

  “No, it’s not that. He’s... familiar somehow. Where did you say you got him from, again?”

  A yellow eye peers out through a gap in the zip, and Marco shudders involuntarily.

  “He just turned up at my house,” I say warily. The last thing I need is an Augur spy-cat on my hands too, and I give him a questioning look, but Marco shakes his head.

  “Maybe it’s just my imagination,” he says, but I don’t miss the fact that he keeps his face pressed to the window, looking outside for the rest of the journey.

  When we pull up outside Beryl’s marble-pillared front doorstep, it’s early evening, and I’m looking forward to friendly faces and a warm welcome. I’m still not sure how the mother of my favourite healer managed to become so wealthy. There was a big business and a divorce involved, but with at least three properties that I know of, one Aston Martin, and probably a holiday home somewhere, she’s done well for herself.

  “What a surprise!” she says, embracing us all when she finds us at her door. She smells like expensive perfume and freshly ironed clothes, an aroma that I didn’t know I missed until now. Her platinum-blonde hair is tastefully short and swept away from her face, which falls when she sees our bags.

  “What happened? Wait, don’t tell me yet. I’ll put the kettle on, and you can put your things down. Make yourselves comfortable.” She shoos us into the house, and after a few moments of removing coats and finding somewhere to put our stuff, we settle around the huge granite island in the kitchen.

  She makes no comment about the cat, who climbed out of my bag upon arrival and has made himself at home on one of the kitchen chairs.

  “David told me about Munday getting out of prison,” she says as she puts the tea things out, stroking Algernon in passing.

  “Is he here?” I ask. It’s unlikely that he would be, but I had half hoped I wouldn’t have to explain myself more than once.

  “I’m afraid he and Mumbe are both at work. They should be home by supper though,” she says, offering around an array of biscuits and cookies on a fancy china plate.

  “Maybe I should fill you all in together,” I say, gratefully taking a custard cream.

  “We got fired,” Lou blurts, rolling her eyes at me. “Always so dramatic, Curtis,” she says quietly.

  “Oh dear. Because of Munday?” Beryl asks, handing me a cup of coffee and handing tea to everyone else. She’s like the world’s best hostess, always remembering exactly how we take our tea and even that I don’t like it.

  “No, because we were told to stay indoors and decided to take matters into our own hands,” Lou carries on. Then she selects a chocolate bourbon for herself and munches on it loudly.

  “Ah, I see. And Miss Banks didn’t take too kindly to that?”

  “Miss Banks was suspended. The Civil Defence Minister is running the show and has everyone out on missions trying to track down the Duke, Munday, and Ella. Oh, and she’s now a suspect because she wrote a note to Curtis telling him not to find her.”

  Everyone stares at Lou, myself included.

  “What?” she says, spraying crumbs as she does so. Beryl clears her throat and places a comforting arm over my shoulder.

  “I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for it, dear.”

  “The logical explanation is that she’s been brainwashed by the Duke like we all were,” Lou snaps. I don’t know what’s gotten her in such a bad mood, but mine isn’t great either, and I’m tempted to tell her to shut up.

  “We found evidence that Clarence was at the Facility at the same time as Munday, experimenting on us the whole time,” Jer explains, putting a restraining hand over hers.

  “Ah,” Beryl says, understanding Lou’s temperament.

  “It also turns out that the special long-lasting Air is stashed under the old Facility site,” Marco adds helpfully.

  “And you wanted to go and save the day, only to be fired from the ATU?” Beryl surmises. We all nod grimly. “I understand the predicament,” she says, pacing around to Lou and giving her a gentle rub on the back, as if that will make her anger go away. It kind of works, as Lou relaxes and gives her a sad smile. I wonder if the healer ability extends to fixing people’s feelings too, but then I discard that idea. All the weeks I spent paralysed in bed after Munday broke my back, I was so depressed I wanted to die at times. If Beryl and David could have made those feelings go away, they would have.

  “We trusted him,” Lou whispers, her voice cracking slightly. I’ve never seen her cry, and she clenches her jaw and looks away so that she doesn’t start now.

  Suddenly, I understand why Lou has been on the verge of an outburst and why her mood has been so sour since we left the ATU: She feels betrayed by the Duke, just like I did when he kidnapped Ella. Her relief at being comforted by Beryl can only be from a feeling of trust and respect, something that was stripped away from her the moment she found out the truth about the Facility.

  “I’m glad you came to me first, before doing anything else,” Beryl says, “It is a horrendous situation to be in, but it’s for the best, if you ask me.”

  “How so?” Jer asks.

  I’m with him on that. I can’t possibly see how losing our jobs at the ATU can help right when we need it the most. No backup. No firepower. No sophisticated tech to help us save Ella.

  “As I see it, the ATU would only hold you back. Your instincts, and all of your collective power, is far greater than they’d ever admit or allow you to use, even to bring down a man like Jonathan Clarence,” she says, giving us each a knowing look.

  “I feel like there’s something you aren’t telling us,” I say, catching the glint in her eye that I’ve only ever seen when she’s keeping secrets.

  Instead of answering me, she wanders across the kitchen and brings back the morning paper. The headline reads:

  MUNDAY MISSING?

  Prime Minister refuses to answer rumours about escapee Augur convict as tensions rise in parliament.

  “Someone leaked it? Jesus. No wonder Ms. Angeles was so angry,” I say, glancing over the article.

  “That’s not what I wanted to show you. Read the little article on page five, practically hidden from view,” Beryl says, flipping the page open and pointing to a column that is lost amongst the rest of the news.

  New implantable technology will block powers for those who wish to live a Normal life.

  The government have agreed to test-run a new intravenous technology that will allow Augurs to dampen their powers, a spokesperson confirmed today. Although the semi-permanent implants are still in their
early stages of development, government employees are being given the opportunity to trial the technology before it is released to the general public next year…

  You have got to be kidding me. I snatch up the paper and read the whole article through, everyone else crowding around me and cursing at intervals.

  A private company has developed an intravenous implant that will allow Augurs to live their lives just like Normals: no powers, no interference from energy waves, and no licensing or laws, or so it goes on to say. The PM has already suggested that everyone in her immediate employ receive the implant so that they can perform their functions as ‘impartially as possible.’ That statement alone makes me seethe. This is what Angeles meant earlier about important decisions being made as regards the Augur problem.

  “I can bet money that you would have all been made to wear these implants, probably within a matter of days, given the speed at which they’re handing them out,” Beryl says gravely.

  “First the registration, then the badges, now this?” Lou practically spits.

  “And all so fast. Why do you think that is?” Jer adds.

  It does seem to be spiralling out of control faster than we had anticipated. Gone are the days when it used to take six months, years even, to get a law passed. Now it only seems to take a couple of days.

  “I think it may have something to do with the fact that the Magic Circle have been so quiet,” Beryl says.

  I look at her in confusion. “Why would that make a difference?”

  “Perhaps because they’re confident that there won’t be backlash from anyone. Look at what happened when the badges came out,” she says with a shrug.

  “Nothing.”

  “Exactly. The good denizens of London applied for their licenses, got their badges, and got on with their lives. Those who might’ve protested are nowhere to be seen.”

  “So, you think they’re taking their chances with this next step before they release it countrywide, or even worldwide?” Lou asks.

  “I do. Everyone knows that the UK has the greatest concentration of Augurs per square mile.”

  “Only because the USA is so big, and Europe is a bit more…progressive about Augurs,” Marco points out.

  “Yes, but it does mean we have more Augur-related accidents and incidents than the rest of the world,” Beryl explains. “None if you were alive in the seventies, but Munday’s experiments were nothing compared to what we had to put up with then.”

  She clasps her manicured hands in front of her on the table, gathering her thoughts. “I was fairly lucky as a teenager, growing up in West London, but my parents were healers before me, working at Charing Cross Hospital, and every day they received abuse if they offered to use their powers to help people. Medicine then wasn’t what it is now, either, so they could have made a real difference, combining their medical knowledge with their skill and magic.

  “But the narrow minded, the superstitious, even the religious would refuse to be treated or even touched by them. I recall my mother coming home one night in tears and covered in blood, just because she offered to cure a man of pneumonia. His zealot of a wife screamed and lashed out at her, hitting and scratching her uncontrollably, only because she wanted to help.

  “I wasn’t allowed to tell anyone I was an Augur until I left school myself. It was far too dangerous.”

  I give her a questioning look to which she replies, “Oh, you’re too young to remember any of this. They burned effigies of Augurs on Halloween every year until about 1985. People hated us.”

  She looks at each of our horrified faces sadly. “I’m sorry to say that my experiences growing up were nothing compared to others’, but we have reached the point where, at least on the surface of society, we are accepted.” She sighs and shakes her head. “It’s a thinly veiled acceptance though, and it could crumble at any moment.”

  “That’s what Munday wanted all along. For Augurs to rise up, for the Magic Circle to lead a rebellion and overthrow Normals,” I say, recalling his plan, as dramatic as it sounds when said aloud.

  “And now the Duke wants to boost Augur powers so that even if the sun was extinguished, we’d be able to use our abilities,” Lou says.

  “Turning us into his own weapons,” adds Jer miserably.

  Beryl goes quiet as she processes this new information. I glance back down at the article again, wondering how long it would have taken Angeles to insist on Jer, Lou, and Marco wearing these implants. Days? Hours? Seems like we did get a lucky break after all.

  I look from Lou to Jer and then to Marco, my own grim expression mirrored on their faces.

  They say that hope is a dangerous thing. That it can make people rise up, forget their pain and their differences, contradict the status quo, and cause chaos. But hopelessness is the real killer. It’s like a life-sucking, confidence-leeching void, blacker than any despair. Even if we could pull off the rescue mission of the century and save Ella, if she even wants to be saved, unless both the Duke and Munday are stopped for good, there’s always going to be someone we’re running from or some danger we’ll be thrown into.

  And then there’s always the fear that Ella really doesn’t want me to come after her. I try to shove that thought away, to push it to the back of my mind, but the note in my pocket feels like it’s taunting me. I should have thrown it away while I had the guts to.

  “I didn’t want to depress you, my dears.” Beryl gives us a half smile. “I only wanted to show you that things have been worse and that our current predicament isn’t impossible.”

  “Feels pretty impossible right now,” Lou murmurs. She looks at Jer with a worried expression, who shrugs in response.

  “Does anyone have a plan—one better than curling up in a ball and locking themselves in a darkened room, that is?” he asks.

  I say nothing. The thought is too tempting.

  Marco pulls out one of the burner phones we bought on the way here. “We should go to the club right now.”

  “Your cousin’s club?” I ask, worrying that I already know the answer.

  “Yep. Enzo and Gio are sure to help us,” he says confidently, making as if to send a message. I put my hand over the screen to stop him.

  “I don’t know, Marco. You haven’t spoken to them in months, and Giovanni made it very clear what he thought of me the last time we met.”

  “Gio isn’t your number one fan, and Enzo doesn’t like Normals, it’s true, but he’s worked so hard to get Air out of the club. If we tell him what we know, about the stash, about the formula to make it long-lasting, he’s got the money and the contacts to lend us a hand.”

  “You sound so certain that he will,” Jer says, the lack of conviction audible in his tone. “But remember he’s not the most loyal—or forgiving—of the Gregorio clan.”

  Marco waves his hand dismissively and pulls the phone out from under mine, but I grab it off him. “Hey!” he protests.

  “You might be willing to give them advanced notice of our arrival, but if we’re going in there, I’d rather Enzo doesn’t know we’re coming. Especially not me,” I say, sliding it back into his palm when he nods.

  An Augur-only club is the last place I should be going, but no one suggests I stay behind.

  “Shall we take the BMW?” Beryl says, standing up.

  “You’re coming too?” I ask in surprise.

  “Of course. You can’t expect to have all the fun without me. An exclusive Augur club sounds like just the place I would have liked when I was younger,” she says, giving me a wink. She never ceases to amaze me.

  “I think we’re better off taking a cab. Northeast London is a little, er, unsavoury in comparison to Chelsea,” Jer says, echoing my thoughts.

  I manage to leave Algernon without too much fuss; he doesn’t seem too worried about being left behind and takes to cleaning himself, ignoring us as we leave.

  We hail a cab from the main road to take us across town, although the driver hesitates when we give him the address.

&nbs
p; “Do you need directions, mate?” Marco asks trying to be helpful.

  “Oh, no lad, nothing like that. There’s just a lot of— roadworks in that area,” he replies, giving us each a wary look.

  “It’s considered a very Augur-saturated borough,” Beryl explains when Marco gives us a questioning look. If his reaction is anything to go by, the driver must think we’re either a bunch of mental Normals or that we’re all Augurs.

  The black cabs in London have three seats facing forwards and two facing back, so Marco and I are stuck on the uncomfortable fold-out chairs for the entirety of the journey, Beryl studying me from opposite.

  A rough outline of a plan is forming in my head, but until we know how much Enzo is willing to invest in us, either through manpower or through other assistance, I can’t put anything concrete together, and it frustrates me.

  If I knew that Ella was still on our side, that she’d fight with us when the time came, things would be a hell of a lot easier. If the Duke somehow managed to get her hooked on Air though, then there’s every possibility that she’d side with him over me. And it’s that thought that stretches every nerve in my body and makes me feel exhausted. The idea that Ella doesn’t want me anymore, that I’m not good enough for her, threatens to break me when I need strength now more than anything.

  “Penny for your thoughts,” Beryl murmurs, eyeing me carefully.

  I sigh and rub a hand over my shaved head, realising I’ve no hair to run my fingers through.

  “You don’t want to know,” I say, looking away. She prods me in the knee with her finger and forces me to look at her.

  “You’ve got this, Curtis. Second guessing yourself now won’t help anyone.” She leans forward so that only I can hear her. “Your friends are counting on you.”

  I pull away from her and look her straight in the eye. The fact that she believes in me, that Lou, Jer, Marco, and even Doctor Lindhurst all seem to believe in me should be enough. For now.