Chapter 9: Hearing (End)

“There’s a lot I don’t understand.”  I said.

Emyrith leaned back in his chair and carefully regarded me.  He gave a curt nod.  “Yes.  Before I launch into an explanation of my own, why don’t you tell me what you already know? Or suspect, rather.”

“When we first met.  You did something.  To block out the noise.”  I blinked rapidly, fumbling through the memories which were a scant few hours ago.  At first, it was difficult like wading through sticky fog.  But the more I tried, the easier I found to recall the memories with increasing clarity.  “I think you spoke Chinese.  Then on the way here.  I was jumped by this… homeless bird thing.”

He perked up at that, “What kind of thing?”

“A love-child between a children’s show and a horror movie.”  I shook my head.  “But that’s just one of it.  The whole conversation in there,”  Gesturing in the general direction of the conference room, I continued, “The whole talk about Queens, Courts, Society and Trials.  That girl, Aera.  She called the other guy an Evocator.  That she’s been competing with people in trials like this since she was five.”

“What chased you?" Emyrith asked.

"This bird... thingie."

"Could you draw me a picture, Mr. Hallow?"

I grabbed one of the nearby pens and ripped open a relatively blank sheet of paper from one of the magazines. I tried my best to draw the thing I saw in the train, which meant I had to regurgitate the living nightmare from my memories. A part of me hated him for making me do this, while the other was glad for the considerably less-scarier version that my inept drawing conjured up.

"Hmmm," He set the paper down and rubbed the expensive watch on his wrist. "A demon? No... perhaps a mythical creature?" He wasn't talking to me, mumbling to himself, rather.

Demons? Spirits? Myths? The hell?

Emyrith nodded curtly, signaling the change in topic. “And what do you think about all this?”

I laughed, but not because it was funny.  Because my thoughts sounded crazy.  What I was about to say sounded utterly insane.

“That you guys are talking about Magic.  Like, capital M magic.  Sci-fi, swords and horses fantasy type Magic.”   There.  It was out there now.  I said it.  I swallowed, “Or that you’re crazy.  Or that this is some elaborate prank.”  I let that sink in.

“I assure you, Mr. Hallow.  Everything I’ve done so far was in good faith; though I cannot speak to the sanity of others, for all purposes, they are not crazy.”

Now, I let that sink in.

What Emyrith was saying, what he was admitting to meant that Magic was real.  It felt like someone slapped me upside the head and the world was spinning in a myriad of kaleidoscopic colors.  The moment Emyrith confirmed the existence of Magic, or rather his belief in it’s existence, the conversations actually began to make sense.  The construction of the ideology of Magic was the foundation, the absolute unshakeable groundwork needed to comprehend everything that happened.

I just found it hard to believe.

“You still doubt me.”  He said.

“I…”  I stammered, trying to find the words.  “I don’t know.”  I said lamely.

“Magic is real, Mr. Hallow.  You can be rest assured about that.  As for the details of Magic, these are the facts that you need to know.”  Emyrith took a sip of his tea, calm and steady –nothing like what I was feeling.  “Your parents knew of it, and were formidable practitioners in their own right; earning them a place among the citizenry within the Society.”

“Society of what?”

“Practitioners of Magic.  Those who can call upon, manipulate, utilize and push the boundaries of the power of creation, destruction; as well as the the forces of the natural and supernatural world.”  Emyrith answered, “It would be easier to think of it like a country without borders, where your citizenship is determined solely by your ability to execute the things I mentioned.”

“Jesus,” I swore softly.

“Either a Mage so powerful that he was indistinguishable from a god and crucified for it, or a deity who had an understanding of the Karmic Order so profound that he voluntarily allowed it.”  He mulled over the ideas, giving a third option, “Regardless of people’s theories about the matter, one cannot deny his influence over history.”

“That’s not what I–”  I stopped, shaking my head; the thoughts snagging on a particular word.  “Deity? You mean gods?  Gods are real?”

“Not just gods, Mr. Hallow.  The Society is just one force among many in this world.”  Emyrith shrugged a shoulder, “The Fae Courts, the Werewolf Tribes –many of whom are still active in Europe– as well as the different Vampire Houses scattered throughout South America, Southeast Asia and Eurasia.”  He began counting off the fingers, “Last I checked, there were still a dozen houses of minor godlings that remained relevant.  Then there are the–”

I lifted up my hands, “You need to slow down.  I can’t… I can’t wrap my head around all of this.  Please.”

“Ah, yes.”  Emyrith’s tone was apologetic, as though he’d just hurt me somehow.  “Mr. Hallow.  The only thing you need to know at this time is that your parents left you with an inheritance which is in danger of being taken from you.”

“I…”  Closing my eyes, I shut everything out but that single fact.  That my parents hadn’t meant to abandon me.  That they’d left something behind for me, to take care of me.  To show that they cared.  That they’d loved me so much that they’d prepared for the future.  A reminder of why I was here in the first place.  “Right.”

“I know things are confusing, but they will begin to unravel in time.  One step at a time, Mr. Hallow.”

“Ok.”  I took another breath, deep enough to hurt my lungs with the force of it.  “I… how do I do this then?  What happened after I left?”

“I’ve managed to convince the other families to grant you temporary and limited access to your inheritance for the time being.”  Emyrith stood, grabbing his buttoning his suit.  “Much to their chagrin.”  He said the last bit with a self-satisfied smile.

My heart skipped a beat.  It wasn’t mine yet, but this was a big step.  I’d finally get to see with my own eyes the inheritance that my parents left for me.  Something to remember them by.  A proof that they existed, that they weren’t just figments of a child’s imagination.

Perhaps photos?  Photos of my dad? Mom?  The three of us?

“Aren’t they afraid that I might run off with it?”

“Impossible.”  Emyrith said so boldly that it left no room for doubt.

I had to speed up to catch up to him; and when I did, Emyrith picked up the pace.  Heading straight for the elevators.

“So where are we going??”  I repeated.

“The inheritance cannot be moved; unless a Successor is chosen.  As such, we’ll be traveling there.”  He looked out the window, seeing the raging snowstorm blanketing the New York skyscrapers in white.  “Staten Island.”

Then he entered the elevator, holding the door from closing.

I followed.

The door closed.

…For Christ’s sake, He said Jesus was a Mage.