Magic Unmasked

  Magic Unmasked

  A Conspiracy of Magic Prequel Novella

  Megan Crewe

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Next in the Conspiracy of Magic series

  Ruthless Magic Excerpt

  About the Author

  Also by Megan Crewe

  Chapter One

  Jonathan

  Magical families only mixed with Dulls if they absolutely had to—or if there was a café in Lenox Hill that made custard tarts so good no conjuring could compete.

  Just about the only time I saw my Uncle Raymond look happy was when he was biting into one of those tarts. He’d plowed through three in the space of fifteen minutes, as if they were brôma theôn. My parents had shared one and now were sipping the last of their lattes. I’d defied tradition and selected a slice of blueberry pie.

  I was scraping up the last tartly sweet crumbs now, soaking in the atmosphere of the “ordinary” world. A new Eagles song was carrying over the murmur of voices around us. The man at the table next to us was gesticulating to his wife about some article in the newspaper he had propped against the table, President Carter’s solemn face staring up from the front page. The little boy beside them was driving a perfect replica of a Manhattan bus along the back of his chair.

  A man nearly as bulky as Uncle Raymond hustled through the tight space between the tables and knocked my mother’s arm just as she raised her mug to her lips. Coffee splashed on her shirt. The Dull man didn’t even appear to notice, already on his way.

  Uncle Raymond huffed under his breath. Mom looked at the splotch on her blue silk blouse and caught my father’s eye with a bemused look that then traveled to me. In solely magical company, she could have ‘chanted the stain out with a brief focusing of intent and a quick verse in Latin or ancient Greek. But the people around us were totally ignorant of the warble of magic that flowed through the air around us and them. She wasn’t going to break centuries of secrecy and the will of our ruling body over a little coffee.

  Even if she, Dad, and I thought those rules ought to be changed.

  For the moment, I had more immediate concerns too. I swallowed my last bite of pie and turned to Uncle Raymond before the atmosphere got to be too much for him. His appreciation for all things magicless—custard tarts aside—was approximately nil. I wanted to catch him while he was still in a good mood.

  “We just picked our courses for second year at the College,” I said. “I’ve been accepted onto the International Relations track.”

  Uncle Raymond’s eyes fixed on me with their usual sharpness, but I’d spent enough time in the company of the magicless to know how to talk around them without letting key details slip.

  “Not content with what you’ve got here on this side of the ocean, Jonathan?” he said.

  I shrugged. “I figure learning about the ways other people handle the issues we deal with here can only enhance our own practices.”

  “You sound like your father.” He shot a dour look at Dad—his younger brother. The remark wasn’t a compliment, but Dad smiled anyway.

  “I’m glad to know I’ve rubbed off on my son at least a little.”

  “Anyway,” I said, barreling onward, “I was hoping to get some direct experience in the field before I begin. Is there any chance you might put in a word with Grandfather about my getting a placement abroad for the summer?”

  I’d visited various countries around the world on our periodic family vacations , but to actually dig in with the local mages, see how they worked, how they made use of their magic around our society’s restrictions, how they interacted with the non-magical cultures… It would be fascinating. And meaningful.

  Much more so than any busy tasks the professors were likely to come up with for our summer projects. I’d already memorized enough of the Classic literature that was supposed to attune our minds to the rhythms of the magic to last me a lifetime.

  “Hmm,” Uncle Raymond said, equally dour. My Grandfather Lockwood was a member of the Circle that set the laws for all the mages in North America. He might be as much Dad’s father as Uncle Raymond’s, but Uncle Raymond was the one working toward taking that place in the Circle when Grandfather retired. Having him ask for special consideration was a much surer bet.

  But my uncle was already shaking his head. “Maybe next summer, when you’re eighteen. I don’t believe in rushing these responsibilities.”

  “I’m sure Jonathan would find his bearings quickly,” my mother put in with the tone she always used with Uncle Raymond, somehow gentle but firm at the same time.

  “That isn’t the only consideration,” he said to her, and looked at me again. “We’ll talk about it again next year. Right now, I think it’s about time we caught up with your Aunt Phyllis.” He pushed to his feet. My aunt had taken my little sister to Macy’s instead of joining us.

  “Next year,” I agreed. I knew when to back down, even if it was ridiculous. Sixteen was old enough to prove whether we deserved to hold onto our magical abilities at all, but seventeen was too young to work at a government office for a couple months? Zeus only knew how he justified that to himself.

  We wove through the tables and emerged out onto the sidewalk. It was a warm spring day, but Uncle Raymond wrinkled his nose at the passing pedestrians and the exhaust from the cars puttering by, as if the vehicles that belonged to the magicless were more offensive than his own.

  As he reached for the door of his sedan, tires screeched just down the street. My head whipped around with a lurch of my heart. A fleshy thud made my whole body tense up.

  A sports car had just jerked to a halt. A woman lay sprawled on the road beside it, her arm twisted at an unnatural angle. O gods, blood was already spreading across the middle of her bright yellow dress. Her shoulders twitched, and she let out a low moan.

  Chaos erupted around the scene. “What the hell were you doing?” a young guy yelled at the driver, his voice ragged. A woman on the other side of the street wrenched open the door of the nearest shop and hollered, “Call an ambulance! There’s been an accident.” A couple knelt down next to the woman who’d been hit, the man touching her forehead, the woman pressing her gauzy scarf to the worst of the wounds.

  My stomach churned with nausea. I braced my hand against the side of my uncle’s car. The way the woman was lying there so still… She could die. She could be almost dead already.

  My gaze slid to my mother’s face. Her lips were pressed tight, her face pale. Dad’s hands had clenched, but he stayed where he was.

  It was so stupid. We could help her. Maybe none of us was a professional magicmedic, but we could have done something more than any of the magicless could manage. A few lines from Homer or Virgil about binding together or easing pain…

  But we couldn’t without being close enough, without everyone seeing us work our powers. And so we wouldn’t, because we were so damned afraid of what the Dulls would do to us if they knew what we were capable of?

  So ridiculously, stupidly afraid. Even Dad, who’d been speaking up for open integration with the magicless for as long as I could remember, was just standing here. While a woman lay dying.

  I gritted my teeth. There had to be something— I could do it. I could walk right over there and say the words. Just a few steps…

  I shifted my weight, still grappling with the idea, and a meaty hand fell on my shoulder. I flinched and looked at Un
cle Raymond. He shook his head in one brisk movement, his eyes flat and cold. “The Dulls are looking after their own.”

  “I know, Jonathan,” Dad said quietly at my other side. “I wish we could too. Maybe someday.”

  That was it? That was the best he could say?

  He opened the back door, nudging me into the car. Uncle Raymond hovered behind me.

  If I’d tried to run and help, they’d stop me. Frustration rippled through me—and a wash of relief.

  Relief.

  As I climbed into the car, a horrible weight settled in my chest. If Uncle Raymond hadn’t held me back, would I have dared to go to that woman and help her?

  Part of me was glad I hadn’t needed to find out. Because part of me knew I wouldn’t have.

  I had a paper on the evolution of magical navigation techniques due tomorrow, but sitting at my desk with a stack of paper and my reference books, I kept staring at the pages blankly.

  Was that woman still lying on the street? Was she still alive?

  After several fruitless minutes, I got up and headed to our brownstone’s second-floor library. Maybe being surrounded by all those old tomes would get me in the right state of mind.

  As I slipped down the staircase, raised voices carried to my ears, muffled by the library door. Dad and Uncle Raymond were arguing again. About the car accident or one of the many other topics that often had them at each other’s throats?

  I paused outside, knowing the dispute would cease the second I opened the door, wanting to know whether Dad was as unsettled as I was.

  “If you’d just bring it to him alongside me,” Dad was saying. “He’ll listen to a united front.”

  “I’m not going to hassle our father or the rest of the Circle with a matter like this,” Uncle Raymond replied.

  Dad let out a rough breath. “But think of the lives that will be lost.”

  Lives? Plural? My mind shot back to that scene in the street, but he clearly didn’t mean that. I leaned closer, my hand coming to rest on the bronze door knob.

  “Those lives aren’t our responsibility,” Uncle Raymond said. “It’s up to the Dull scientists to monitor the warning signs in their Dull ways. If they chose to ignore them…”

  “You know our methods will predict the timing more accurately. We’ll detect sooner when the balance starts to shift.”

  Uncle Raymond muttered something I couldn’t hear.

  “After that last earthquake, I don’t think we can assume that,” Dad retorted.

  Earthquake. Some part of the world must be on the verge of an environmental catastrophe, one that Dad believed they weren’t properly prepared for.

  “Well, what do you suggest we do about it, Eddy?” Uncle Raymond demanded. “We can’t waltz into their offices brandishing reports we can’t explain.”

  Dad’s voice lowered. “You know what I’d suggest. The same thing I’ve been suggesting for the last twenty years.”

  Uncle Raymond’s chuckle was caustic. “You and your wide-eyed naivety. As if the Dulls would really welcome our help with open arms. All the magic in the world won’t help us against a billion foes who see us as nothing more than a threat. The second they found out we exist they’d be trying to stamp us out.”

  “It’s 1980, not the Dark Ages. If we approached it in the right manner—”

  “We’ve been down this path before, Edward. Let’s just leave it.”

  “Raymond…”

  This argument never changed much. Dad wanted us to integrate with non-magical society so we could support everyone more efficiently. Uncle Raymond thought he was delusional. Unfortunately, most of those in the other prominent mage families agreed with my uncle. Easier to keep doing things the same old way while the world falls apart around you than to take a risk to make a change for good, I’d heard Dad mutter more than once.

  I didn’t need to hear them hash all that out again. I wanted to know more about this looming catastrophe. I took a step back and then forward again as if I’d just come up to the door.

  Uncle Raymond was swinging his arm in a gesture of frustration when I walked into the library. He lowered his hand to his side, his mouth snapping shut. His broad face was flushed red. Dad’s leaner form was rigidly straight, but when his eyes met mine, his stance relaxed slightly.

  “Jonathan,” he said, running his hand through the light brown hair I’d inherited. “Did you need something?”

  “I thought I could use another book for my paper,” I said, ambling toward the shelves. My heart thudded. “I thought I heard you say something about an earthquake as I was coming down the stairs. Not around here, I hope?”

  “Nothing for you to concern yourself with,” Uncle Raymond said, of course.

  If I’d hoped Dad would offer more, I was left adrift. He grimaced. “Occasionally your uncle is right. We’ll sort the matter out. I promise there’s no need for you to worry.”

  Because it wasn’t going to hurt anyone around here—or at least not any of us mages? Was that supposed to comfort me?

  “I’m not worrying,” I said. “Only curious.”

  “It may all come to nothing anyway,” Uncle Raymond said brusquely.

  Dad gave me a thin smile that looked rather pained. “You’d better get on with that paper.”

  Right. I grabbed the first text that looked vaguely related and brandished it for my elders’ benefit. My father and his older brother stayed silent as I walked back out. Their voices picked up again the second the door clicked shut behind me—but quieter now. I couldn’t make out even a bit of what they were saying.

  My fingers tightened around the book as I headed upstairs.

  Nothing for me to concern myself with. Because it shouldn’t matter that a bunch of people somewhere might die, just as it hadn’t been supposed to matter what happened to that woman the car had struck? Or because Dad didn’t think a first-year student of the College could contribute anything useful?

  He wasn’t going to do anything other than more arguing behind closed doors, was he? It sounded like he didn’t even want to pitch his case to my grandfather without getting Uncle Raymond’s support. He’d just stand by, like he had outside the café. All talk and no action. After everything he’d taught me…

  I’d thought better of him than that.

  My throat tightened, but as I sat down at my desk, a quiver of resolution ran through me, as potent as the magic thrumming in the air around me. I might be only a first-year student, but my skills ranked at the top of my class. I was plenty old enough to care. Plenty old enough to act even if Dad wouldn’t.

  I had a few slivers of information. I could find out the rest on my own. And this time, I wouldn’t stand by.

  Chapter Two

  Amy

  Squint at the glowing green text on the computer monitor. Tap, tap, tap the numbers from the paper in front of me. Repeat ad nauseam.

  I swear, you don’t know boredom until you’ve spent the better part of an hour doing data entry on the chemical compounds in soil samples. Why did I volunteer for this again?

  I set aside the file I’d just completed and glanced across the room toward my dad. His skinny frame was hunched over the spread of topographic maps on the table in front of him, his fingers spinning his pencil with a repetitive twitch, his eyes hazy with concentration behind his rectangular glasses. He only sat about ten feet away, but when he got into that zone, he might as well be on another planet.

  I’d thought working together might bring us closer together again—like those geological surveys I’d gone on with him before, tramping around some wild place collecting samples or setting down monitoring equipment, roughing it together. But that had been before Mom had taken off on us. Sometimes it seemed like a part of Dad—a part that had made him my dad—had left with her. And the rest of him didn’t know quite what to do with me anymore.

  So far I hadn’t figured out any way to fix that.

  Thinking about that sent an uncomfortable twinge through my gut. I slid anothe
r file folder in front of me and went back to my tap, tap, tapping.

  Cheryl, one of the other scientists on staff, checked out my pile of completed entries and patted me on the shoulder. “Good work, kid,” she said. “Keep it up and we might have to hire you on. You’re getting through those faster than most of the assistants we do hire.”

  “Glad I could help,” I said in my brightest voice. Cheryl was pretty nice, even if she believed in calling seventeen-year-olds “kid.” And one tiny bit of good I could do was making sure no one here realized I was bored out of my skull.

  Volunteering in the office lab wasn’t all that interesting for its own sake. Instead of wild landscapes, chittering birds, and fresh air, I got white walls and desks, the thin whine of tech equipment, and the smell of the tuna sandwich someone had brought for lunch. But I was here now. Quitting just three weeks in would only put more distance between me and Dad. Running away from commitments was a pretty sore spot for both of us right now.

  When I finished with my current stack of files, I carried them over to Dad’s table. If he wasn’t going to reach out to me, I’d just have to force a little interaction.

  “All done!” I said. “Hey, could we grab Chinese on the way home tonight? We haven’t done the ‘veg out in front of the TV’ thing in a while.”

  Dad patted the end of the table to show where to set down the files, with just a brief glance at me. His gaze slid right back to his work. He rubbed his temple where his red-blond hair was thinning. “Sorry, Ames. We’ve got a meeting after hours tonight. You order delivery for yourself if you want.” He reached for his wallet. “Are you ready to head out?”