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  Ascending Mage 3: Buried Truth

  Frank & RaeLea Hurt

  Ascending Mage 3: Buried Truth is Copyright ©2019 by Frank Hurt and RaeLea Hurt.

  All rights reserved.

  The people, places, and situations contained in this book are figments of the authors' squirrelish imaginations and in no way reflect real or true events.

  Contents

  1. Mad Player

  2. I Don’t Have a Choice

  3. Digit Eyes

  4. Bloody Tired of Killing My Friends

  5. Perverse Source of Pride

  6. No Mincing Words

  7. You’re Just a Punching Bag

  8. Pretend I’m Not Even Here

  9. A Dang Hero

  10. We’re the Cooks You’re Lookin’ For

  11. A Small Price to Pay

  12. Take One of Each

  13. Poppyseeds

  14. Go Team Ember

  15. A Most Unimaginatively Incompetent Liar

  16. Call Ember Wright for all Your Demands

  17. Some Explaining to do

  18. Not the Solution We’d Planned

  19. Take Me With You

  20. What’s the Worst That Could Happen?

  21. What an Ugly Thing You Are

  22. It Gets to Keep Its Eyes

  23. Olly Olly Oxen Free

  24. What a Rude Boy

  25. Silenced Static

  26. You Look Far Worse

  27. I’ll Add it to Your Tab

  28. Deal Me In

  29. The Misery Party

  30. Pyrrhic Victory

  31. It’s a Surprise

  32. In Bed

  Ascending Mage 4: Nothing Broken

  Acknowledgments

  1

  Mad Player

  It’s incredibly foolish to annoy a powerful mage.

  A vindictive Malvern (as mages are formally known) can cast all manner of nasty spells. An Investigator can wipe one’s thoughts with a Memory Wash spell. An Artistic mage can enchant with a well-crafted song or cause one to become obsessed with a sculpture or painting. There are even certain Elementalist spells which can rain Hellfire upon the Earth. There’s no end to the number of ways in which a determined mage can torment an unwitting victim.

  Fortunately, under High Council Law most of those terrible spells are illegal to use against NonDruws. Even those which are allowed are highly restricted, justifiable only in self-defense. Generations ago, the elders of the Council recognized such laws were necessary for the existence of Druws to remain concealed from other humans.

  To men like Elton Higginbotham, however, such rules didn’t apply.

  In his mind, those laws were meant for everyone else. He and the other Sixth-Level mages were superior beings—practically a species unto themselves. The Council had its place in keeping the changelings under control and the less capable Malverns in check. It was the natural order of things for lesser beings to seek guidance. Elton and his associates needed no such guidance.

  From the stool at the end of the bar, Elton contemplated his role in the reordering of Druwish society. It was a century-long chess match, but the pieces were all slowly slipping into place. The future they were making would be vastly superior—at least for him and the other high-level mages. For everyone else, well, they would just have to be taught the benefits of servitude to benevolent masters. All for the greater good.

  The ice in the old-fashioned glass settled as he sipped the last of the rusty nail. The bartender had gone heavy on the Drambuie, just as Elton ordered. The drained tumbler only just touched down on its paperboard coaster when the bartender noticed.

  “Was that one more to your taste, sir?” The twenty-something-year-old man wore a pitiable mustache that resembled a fuzzy caterpillar. “Better than the first one?”

  “I think you’ve got it right,” Elton admitted. He glanced at his Rolex; there was still twenty minutes until the meeting. “I’ve got time for one more if you think you can replicate this.”

  “You betcha.” The fuzzy caterpillar quirked as the bartender produced a clean glass. The ice cubes made a satisfying clink when they were dropped into their final home.

  A heavily-muscled college kid with bleach-blond hair stepped up to the corner of the bar. He rapped his knuckle on the smooth surface, as though he was knocking on a door. “Yo, barman! Can I get four Bud Lights over here?”

  “I’ll be right with you,” the fuzzy caterpillar twitched with the response. The bartender poured a shot of honeyed whiskey from a black-labeled bottle, chasing it with an ounce of Scotch. A zest of spiral lemon garnish served as an exclamation point for the cocktail.

  “Wassup, brah?”

  It took Elton a moment to realize the bleached head of hair was talking to him. “Hmm?”

  “Yeah, I’m totally gonna get some tonight.” The young man hooked a thumb over his shoulder to a table where two women sat with another man. Each of them looked barely over the legal drinking age. “Mitch and I’ve been working on these girls for, like, two weeks. Taking them out to eat, shit like that. Stacey’s the blonde with the sweet rack. She’s mine.”

  “I’m sorry, do you think you know me?” Elton’s icy blue eyes searched the uncouth young man’s face. “What makes you think I’m interested in your activities?”

  “Nah, brah, I’m just pumped, a’ight? Don’t hate the player, brah.” The young man shrugged. He bore the scent of cocky young hormones and too much cologne. “You’re an old businessman an’ shit now in your suit and tie, but, like, I’ll bet you were a stud a long time ago. You were a mad player back in your day, am I right?”

  The fresh cocktail arrived to replace the drained tumbler. Elton brought the rusty nail to his lips and sampled deeply. The honeyed liqueur was tangible among the bittersweet concoction.

  “That one work for you, too, sir?” The bartender asked as he lined up four bottles of beer.

  “As good as the previous. Nicely done.” The mage glanced at the table of coeds as an impulse entered his consciousness. “I’ll pay my tab now, but before you close it, put this young man’s order on it.”

  “Really, brah? What for?”

  Elton flashed a perfect, white grin. “Consider it a congratulatory gesture on your impending Pyrrhic victory.”

  Bleached-Head raised his eyebrows. “My…what? Dude, I don’t know what that means.”

  “I didn’t expect you to. If a badger didn’t know it, how could you? Go, grab your beers and join your flock.”

  The mage paid his tab in cash. He swallowed the last mouthful of rusty nail and checked his wristwatch. Just enough time for a little amusement. He twisted the gold-and-black barrel of his ballpoint and scrawled his home address onto a square napkin.

  The table was on his way out. He walked past, slowing just enough to be noticed.

  “Hey, man! Thanks for the brewskies.” The one Bleached-Head had identified as Mitch raised his half-drained bottle of Bud.

  Elton paused, allowing a smile to form on his lips before turning to face the two couples. “You’re quite welcome. I should introduce myself. I’m Elton.”

  Elton extended his hand to the two girls, first. They offered their names as Stacey and Brandy. Though he wasn’t in an amorous mood, he couldn’t resist closing the trap he had set. I don’t want them, but you do, and that’s good enough reason to take them.

  When his tanned, bejeweled hand closed around each of theirs, Elton pulled a wisp of mana from the cobalt blue tiepin he wore. The magic energy flowed from that Leystone over his skin and down across each of the seated girls. He allowed a moment for his Deference Spell to take root, which wouldn’t take long on a couple of simple NonDruws such as these.

  “If you don’t mind my sayi
ng, you girls look like you might be a little tipsy.” Elton casually planted the suggestion. “You probably should call it a night soon, yes?”

  Mitch laughed, “they haven’t even had a whole beer yet.”

  The young women looked at one another, their eyes now slightly glazed. Stacey frowned. “You know, I am feeling buzzed.”

  “Me, too,” Brandy agreed.

  “Why don’t I give you girls a ride home then, hmm?” Elton maintained a cool smile. “We wouldn’t want anyone taking advantage of you in your inebriated state.”

  “Yeah, right brah,” Bleached-Head scoffed. “They’re not going anywhere with you.”

  “No, he’s right.” Stacey stood up a moment before Brandy did. “We’re going to hitch a ride with Elton.”

  Bleached-Head stood up suddenly, the feet of his chair screeching across the floor. “What the fuck? You can’t be serious.”

  “The ladies have made their decision.” Elton tilted his head as he turned to face the confused man. His voice took on a playful tone. “I think we should honor it, don’t you?”

  “What the hell is this?” Bleached-Head glanced at his date and her friend, then back at Elton. His hands were balled into tight fists. “Are you punkin’ me, old man?”

  Elton stepped up to the angry young man. His smile evolved into a shark’s grin, icy blue eyes locking upon the kid as though he were a bug to be squashed. His playful tone persisted, though the volume diminished. “It’s a lovely evening, wouldn’t you agree? Doubtless, you and your friend would find happier things to do than to challenge an old man.”

  Bleached-Head’s body tensed. Heat radiated from the muscled figure, adding perspiration to the medley of hormones and cheap cologne. Confusion and rage fought for the right to be revealed.

  Elton’s grin widened as he prepared to maneuver. He kept his body loose, his mana coiled and ready to release. Just give me a reason to do it, punk.

  The other young man was more observant than his friend. He saw the predatorial confidence the old man exuded, and he didn’t mistake it for hollow bravado. Mitch grasped his friend’s shoulder. His voice quavered, “come…come on, man. These bitches ain’t worth it.”

  Bleached-Head hesitated, blinked, then sat down hard. He scowled at Stacey but said nothing.

  Elton withdrew the invisible spear of mana he had queued. He winked at the young men and whispered, “enjoy your brewskies…brah.”

  As their confused dates watched, Stacey and Brandy wordlessly followed Elton out the front door.

  The crisp October evening air tasted refreshing after the serving of hormone-and-cologne body odor. Elton inhaled deeply, detecting the perfume his young trophies wore. He pulled the folded napkin and a keyring from his pocket, teasing one of the keys loose with his fingernail. The Malvern held the piece of thin brass by its teeth.

  “Stacey, Brandy. This is my house key. You’re to go to the address I wrote on this napkin. There, you are going to clean my kitchen for an hour, after which you will shower and then wait for me, unclothed, in my living room. Is that understood?”

  The two young women looked up at him with eyes wide, unblinking. It was as though they were mesmerized by every syllable he produced. With the Deference Spell controlling them, the mage was someone to be idolized, to be obeyed unquestioningly. “Yes, Elton,” they chanted in unison.

  “Very good. I’ll join you within a couple of hours.”

  Even Elton had to admit: lesser beings did have their uses.

  “Ah, there you are, Elton. We were beginning to think you might actually be late for once.” Viceroy William Roth’s slate grey eyes scanned the other Malvern men gathered in the Eighth Floor boardroom. “Shall we begin?”

  “My apologies, Will. I allowed a brief distraction to interrupt my evening cocktail.” Elton offered the unsolicited explanation with a grin.

  Curtis Davies snorted. “A brief distraction? What’s her name?”

  “Stacey and Brandy.”

  “Two of them, you greedy bastard?” Curtis shook his head. “Save some for the rest of us, you dog. Next time, bring me as your wingman.”

  “If ever I start needing a wingman, I’ll be sure to let you know.” Elton chose one of the high-back leather chairs. “But what will Cathy say when you bring a college girl home?”

  “She’ll probably tell me, ‘Honey, wait your turn. I get her first.’”

  Bartholomew Samson cleared his throat. “Your attraction to anonymous NonDruw females is baffling, Director Higginbotham.”

  “Listen to the Puritanical Killjoy!” Elton directed his rebuttal to the Viceroy. “Bartholomew finds my love life baffling, Will. Isn’t that a shocker?”

  Bartholomew grumbled, “I’d hardly call it a love life.”

  “Okay, gentlemen.” The Viceroy held his hands up. “The reason I called for this meeting is because we have a problem that needs to be dealt with. Something which has been quietly festering since our ill-fated Mandaree Incident adventure nine years ago.”

  “The changeling scouts,” Bartholomew muttered.

  “Not just the scouts.” The Viceroy shook his head. “Their families, too. They’re becoming emboldened, making waves, I’m told.”

  “Can’t we just make them…disappear?” Curtis drew an index finger horizontally along his Adam’s apple.

  Elton crossed his arms and leaned back. The leather upholstery squeaked as it accommodated him. “No, there’s too much attention on them. The window for that option has closed.”

  The Viceroy nodded. “I agree. We might’ve been able to cut off this loose end back in 2001, but it’s too late now.”

  Curtis said, “I remember pushing for that if you recall. You didn’t think it was necessary. You thought the problem would take care of itself.”

  “We made the decision as a group,” William steepled his fingers as he rested his elbows on the ellipse-shaped table’s edge. “We thought that with their illness—with their inability to shift into their animal subforms—that they would succumb to depression and just kill themselves off, eventually. Obviously, we were overly optimistic.”

  “Some of them were pretty damn close to tying their own nooses, too,” Elton added. “Their family structure, support from their communities…they’re stronger than we gave them credit. And now, someone’s been rallying them.”

  “Do we know who?” Bartholomew peered over the top edge of his wire-rimmed glasses. “Is it someone we can control?”

  Elton played with the cobalt Leystone ring on his finger, spinning it slowly with his knuckle. “I don’t know for certain, but I suspect it’s that new mage we just promoted to Senior Investigator. The cute little blonde with an attitude, Ember Wright.”

  “I thought you had her under your influence?” William asked.

  “I do—I mean I do now,” Elton shook his head. “Maybe she put the wheels in motion before I cast my Deference Spell on her. She must’ve nudged the changeling community enough to get them organized before I had a chance to meet her. She’s under my influence now though, at least. I’ve since reinforced the spell and I’m confident she is under my control.”

  “All the same, she’s proven herself an intuitive Investigator,” William said. “The way she handled the Changeling Hunter. The way she surprised us by passing her Ascension Test. You may have her under your Deference Spell, but she’s not one we can dismiss.”

  “Maybe she needs to disappear?” Curtis made the neck-slicing gesture again.

  The Viceroy scrunched his face into a pinched expression. “Why must your first instinct be bloodshed, Curt? Her family is among the nobility, she’s under our control now, and the damage she could do to us is already done. Ember Wright is much more useful for us now as a pawn. We’ll play that piece next, but first, we have the problem in front of us to deal with.”

  “It sounds like you have something specific in mind,” Elton said.

  “I do. We can’t simply eliminate the troublemakers, or they would become martyrs. Their
deaths would be a rallying point for the other changelings to coalesce around.” William tapped the pads of his steepled fingers together before pulling them apart, expanding his gesture. “We need to draw them out into the open, and then bury them.”

  The other mages watched the Viceroy as he allowed the silence to linger for a moment. Finally, he said, “We’ve had him on the shelf for decades. It’s time for us to sacrifice our asset.”

  “What, the musician?” Curtis asked.

  “The poor bastard,” Bartholomew grumbled. “I never much cared for the man, but he does have a talent with instruments.”

  “It is what we’ve been grooming him for,” Elton Higginbotham admitted. “So you’re suggesting we paint a big ol’ target on his back, am I understanding you correctly, Will?”

  “You are. The details I’ll leave up to you, Elton. I’m going to place some distance between myself and the scandal you’re going to create. It’s time that I visit the High Council. I’ll leave on Monday. While I’m gone over the next week, I want you to ensure things are taken care of.”

  Elton cracked his knuckles and flashed his trademark shark-grin. “Sure, Will. I can do that.”

  Curtis asked, “so then what about your pawn, the new Senior Investigator? You said she’s got a relationship with the changeling community. What if her natural Investigator’s Instinct kicks in? What if she gets in our way?”

  “We only need to keep her distracted for a week,” William said. “I think I know exactly how to derail Ember Wright. We’ll knock that domino over before I leave town. The rest of you, assist Elton with the main plan. By the time I return from England, I want the Mandaree Incident problem finally buried.”