“Are you on meds that might have interacted with something else you took? Maybe street drugs of some kind?”
Emma’s ironwood spine stiffened. “I’m not using any street drugs, and I’m not having any symptoms, and everything was basically just fine until my grandfather died. Since then, things have gone downhill real fast.”
Natalie glanced at the door, then leaned in again, speaking low and fast, “Don’t worry. The wizards don’t know you’re a savant, because they can’t read stones. They can’t even tell for sure that you’re gifted.”
Emma stared at her. “What? What’s that you keep calling me?”
“A savant. See, that’s why I’m here. I have experience treating savants.”
“I’m just lost,” Emma said wearily. “Tyler told me about the—the magical guilds, but he never mentioned—what you call it—savants.”
Natalie frowned, as if puzzled. “You were at Thorn Hill, right?”
How does she know that? “I guess I was, yes,” Emma admitted. “For a while. I guess I left before the . . . before the massacre.”
“You did? But . . . you have a savant stone.”
“I can’t help that,” Emma said wearily. Wishing there was at least one question she could answer.
“Do you mind?” Gripping Emma’s wrist, Natalie pulled Emma’s right sleeve up to expose her wrist and forearm. Then sat back, looking confused. “Huh. You don’t have the tattoo,” she said.
“The tattoo?”
“All of us have these.” Natalie extended her arm, displaying an inked design of flowers.
Something tugged at Emma’s memory, something from childhood. “I think I remember seeing those when I was a kid,” she said. “Everyone had one but me.” She’d been envious of the others with the flower tattoos.
“Everyone at Thorn Hill had them,” Natalie said. “But you don’t.”
“You were at Thorn Hill, too?”
Natalie nodded. “I know this is a really bad time, to be finding all this out. But—I’m warning you—the wizards are in a hurry to talk to you. I don’t think I can keep them away much longer.” She used the word wizard like a curse.
Apprehension settled over Emma’s heart, pressing all of the air out of her lungs. “My father’s dead, isn’t he?”
Natalie hesitated. “I don’t know for sure, but if he was with you, he may be. The wizards said that you were the only survivor.”
“Survivor of what?”
“Damned if I know,” Natalie growled. “I was hoping you might tell me, because they aren’t talking.”
“But . . . what do they care? What’s their interest?”
“Apparently, wizards were among the dead, and you’re the only witness.” Natalie leaned in close, spoke in a low voice. “Is there any other family? Anyone else I can call? Somebody who might help you?”
“No,” Emma whispered, a great well of misery churning in her middle. “I have nobody.”
Just then she heard footsteps, rapidly approaching. They both stared at the door. Natalie leaned close, speaking into Emma’s ear. “Listen to me,” she said. “I’ll try and buy you some time. Don’t be afraid to tell them you don’t remember anything, if that’s the case. If they think you don’t know anything, they might let you go.”
Emma clutched at Natalie’s arm. “Are you saying I’m a prisoner?”
Natalie hesitated. “From what I’ve seen and heard, I believe you may be.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
Can’t We All Just Get Along?
The Weir sanctuary of Trinity glittered in the slanting autumn sunlight like a postcard of a New England town. But the flaming russets and golds of the trees on the square did nothing to improve Jonah’s mood. He and Gabriel had been arguing all the way from downtown.
“If you could hear them, you would stop it,” Jonah said. “Well, then, it’s a blessing that we can’t,” Gabriel said bluntly. “Why do you think I pulled you out of operations? Because I didn’t want to put you through this.”
“But you’ll put them through it.”
“I understand that we have a kinship with everyone who was at Thorn Hill. I recognize that none of this is their fault. But what do you expect me to do? They’ve declared war on us.”
“We made the first move,” Jonah said.
“So we should allow them to keep murdering the gifted and leaving the bodies on our doorstep?”
“We could talk to them.”
“There’s no point. It would only make this more difficult. I don’t want any communication with Lilith, do you understand? None whatsoever.” Gabriel circled the square once and pulled into the angle parking that lined the main street. “The good news is that the downtown area is finally cleared of shades again. You should be happy about that.” He pushed his door open and got out, seeming eager to leave this topic behind.
What Gabriel said made sense, as it always did. But something was wrong. The emotional messages Jonah was getting were definitely mixed.
“Don’t you think they’ll be back?” he said, making no move to get out of the car.
“I’m hoping Lilith will return,” Gabriel said. “I believe she’s the driving force behind this. If we can just eliminate her—”
“Never mind,” Jonah said. He was close to being petulant, but he didn’t care.
Gabriel sighed. “Losing Mose was hard on all of us, Jonah. You especially. Every time we lose a student, I feel like we’ve failed.”
This was the place where Jonah was supposed to say, It’s not your fault, Gabriel, everyone knows you’re doing the best that you can.
Instead, he said, “Tell me again why we have to be here? Are they actually voting on this motion today?”
Gabriel shook his head. “Mercedes has put it on the agenda for discussion. One thing I’ve learned in my years in the business is that personal connection is always more effective. Engagement prevents all manner of rumors from getting started. If you can just be your usual charming self, Jonah, I know it will go a long way toward allaying any fears.” After a long pause, he said, “We’d better go. I don’t want to walk in late.”
Jonah slid out of the car.
“Promise me you won’t get into any more fights with mainliners,” Gabriel said as they crossed the square.
“That wasn’t a fight.”
“What do you call it, then?”
“Sparring.”
“Still. When mainliners see that you are good with a sword, it makes them think. It makes them wonder how you developed that skill. They may remember there was a boy at the bridge.”
“Saving their children’s lives.”
“They may not see it that way.”
“So my job is to be pretty, and charming, but not too capable?”
“Your job is to be judicious about which capabilities you share with others,” Gabriel said, leading the way up a flight of stone steps to the door of a church.
The sanctuary was already half filled, so Gabriel and Jonah filed up the side aisle toward the front and turned into the side chapel. Jonah spotted Jack Swift and Ellen Stephenson at the back of the chapel, sprawled across the last pew, their swords propped up beside them. Working security, no doubt. Jonah and Gabriel found their way to seats three rows from the front.
Looking forward, Jonah saw that Leesha Middleton and Mercedes Foster were seated in the front row.
About a dozen people were ranged around a conference table that had been set up on the dais. McCauley was the only one Jonah recognized. Mercedes Foster paused to speak with them on her way to the front of the church. “Hello, Gabriel, Jonah.”
The crowd in the sanctuary was restive, seething. Some of the spectators seemed to be in an ugly mood. “This looks like a lynch mob,” Jonah murmured. “Is it always like this?”
“Feelings are running high about the Montessori kidnapping,” Mercedes said. “I hope you wore your bulletproof vests.” She rolled her eyes. “Look on the bright side . . . it will make for a lively discussion.”
“Do you think we should defer introducing the representation proposal?” Gabriel asked.
Mercedes shook her head. “I hope we’ll get support, if not here, then in the town at large. Your Natalie was like a goodwill ambassador for the Anchorage when she was here. Everybody was impressed with her.” The sorcerer looked around. “I thought you were going to bring her today.”
“I was,” Gabriel said. “But then I had a request for a healer to see a seriously ill patient. I hoped she’d be back in time to come with us today, but I understand it’s been a tough case.”
That’s just what Natalie needed, after Mose, Jonah thought. Another tough case. Some savants lived with their extended families outside of Gabriel’s complex, but many of them still came to the Anchorage for health care.
As Mercedes walked on up the aisle, Gabriel studied the crowd. “I’ve never seen so many mainliners at one of these meetings,” he murmured.
Jonah recognized some faces from his previous visit to Trinity. The angry parents who had confronted McCauley were all there, and then some. Scanning the crowd, Jonah saw Ms. Morrison, Ms. Hudson, and Mr. Scavuzzo in the audience.
“Gabriel,” Jonah said. “There’s something you should know about what happened at the sparring match. Some parents seemed to think—”
Somebody tapped him on the shoulder. He turned to see Ellen leaning over the back of the pew. “Jonah! Did you get my texts? We were hoping you’d come work out.”
“Oh. Right. I did get your texts, I should have answered back. I’ve been buried in—in schoolwork,” Jonah said. “Jonah is serving an apprenticeship with me,” Gabriel said. “Learning the music business. Between that and school and his own music, he doesn’t have time to do much else.”