Mage of Shadows (33 page)

The second sub-branch was Cloaking, or the illusionary arts. A mage tricks a mind to believe something is there- or isn't. Again, a User would only be fooled by a Cloak as long as they were unaware that another mage was doing it. But despite its limitations, Les could easily trick my mother into thinking that my bed was empty even though he was lying in it. Les could have also made her believe that I was sleeping there and not on the ground, but that would be more complicated. Plus my instructor had a mean streak, and enjoyed putting me in uncomfortable situations.

"If I can't enjoy my break, neither can you." Les said, when I asked him later after waking up.

The final sub-branch was Reading. The vaunted ability to read another's mind that everyone desired, but it was impossible to do without touching another person. Users could instantly block it unless they were being overwhelmed completely by the willpower of other mages. The brain's natural complexity was a final barrier. It also took a master of telepathic abilities to force the memories to the forefront of the brain, and a natural skill to sift through those memories. It would be years before I could ever hope to do it. Even then, it wasn't truly mind reading, surface thoughts were just too fleeting to read.

For all the progress I had made with Pushing and Cloaking, it would probably take even longer to master Reading. Three days without any real gains made, and it was time to go back to school. I wasn't sure who was more frustrated, myself or Les.

"I should have just left early." The other mage grumbled as he packed away the last of his things into the single duffle that he had brought along, "I could have had a nice break somewhere warm- like Aruba or something."

"Sorry?" I replied without much sincerity. Les had tortured me enough in the past month that I couldn't find much sympathy for his plight of a lost winter break.

"Yeah, whatever." Les said with a roll of his eyes, "We won't have as much time when we get back to UD, so let's go over it now. What will you do today before bed?"

"Meditate."

"Tomorrow?"

"Meditate."

"Next year?"

"Meditate."

Les nodded one final time as he slung the duffle bag over his shoulder. I felt him gather a Cloak about his person as he opened the window. My teacher swung outside and held onto the sill, looking out into the distance and aiming how far he would travel. I saw him gather magic inside his body until it hovered in a dense visible cloud of dancing lights.

"See you back in Detroit, Stratus. You've become a bit less useless, but you still have a ways to go, don't forget that." Les said, giving me one last backhanded compliment.

"Yes boss." I saluted him, but he had already pushed away, shooting off the side of house hard enough to make the brick tremble for a moment after he was gone. I followed his arcing progress for as long as I could-several hundred feet, to the point where his Cloak could subvert my will to perceive through it, and he disappeared from my vision.

That night, I sat down for a rare family dinner with my mother and father, both of whom had come home early from work to see me a final time before I left. It was a quiet meal mostly filled with awkward silence, as had the sparse few others we had had gone. Mostly, it was filled with quiet glances and the misplaced cheerful tinkling of silverware against porcelain plates as we scraped away at my mother's quickly done cooking.

Only a bit longer, I thought to myself, Then I'll get through the awkward hugs and stern goodbyes, make my promises and climb into the cab and head for the airport.

I forlornly wished that I could Cloak so I could just Jump all the way there instead. It would turn a two hour cab ride into a thirty minute thrill ride, if that. There was nothing like the sheer speed and excitement that accompanied Jumping, by far one of the coolest abilities I had attained.

Mages couldn't fly, unless they were air Aethers, and even then it was more along the terms of gliding. However, every mage worth their salt could Jump. Like Vik and the others had done when escaping the roof of structure 5 on the night of the hazing, and Les had done just hours before. I would send myself into the air using as much telekinetic force that my body could withstand until gravity pulled me down again. I would then slow my fall by pushing with aggregated force against the earth that would eagerly anticipate me. The result would be me landing gently onto the ground, as if I had only leapt a few feet into the air rather than several hundred. Then I would do it again, over and over, until I reached my destination.

But Jumping without a Cloak would just be asking for trouble, unfortunately. So the cab ride it was. It was probably for the best, thirty minutes of straight Jumping would probably leave me worn out and half dead by the time I arrived. The energy trade-off was still extraordinary, even if I could better manage the conversion and output of magic to useable telekinetic energy now. True, I wasn't just an amateur anymore, I was Wise.

Now I was a Wise amateur.

"All A's." My father said abruptly, speaking for the first time midway through the meal, much to my trepidation. I had hoped half-heartedly that he wouldn't speak at all.

"Yes sir."

"Or I will stop paying."

"I understand."

"And don't take that tone with me."

"What tone?" I said with sheer irritation before I could stop myself. Oops. I saw my mother stiffen in her seat and give me a warning look. Too late, mom.

Navigating a conversation with my father this month had become like navigating a minefield on tip-toes. He had never been quite this insufferable before, and I realized grimly that my months away had had the opposite effect on his temper than I had hoped. It was almost a manic anger now, bubbled far past its boiling point and spilling over whenever I neared him.

My father glared at me, his fork stopping halfway to his mouth, "What was that?"

"I'm sorry." I said mutely, "I forgot, sir."

For a brief second it looked like it wouldn't work and he would lash out at me… but then my father breathed in slowly and reined in his temper, "Nicholas." He sighed heavily, as if it pained him, "You are my son. You must understand why I am so angry with you."

I listened, attentively sitting up in my seat at this new, different development. My father glanced at my mother, who nodded encouragingly to him. I sensed conspiracy, but said nothing, just waiting for what would be a startling new development.

He continued, "You are my only child. And for years, I believed you to be a smart, independent young man. Your grandmother always spoke of you as such, and I had long been distracted first by my schooling, and then work. You grew up without me, but you grew up well. When you were in high school I had never seen a more confident young man."

My mouth was agape, I was… pleasantly surprised. I hadn't heard any sort of compliment from the man in ages, what had brought this about?

It was, too good to last of course, his grip tightened around his fork, "But it was a lie." My father said through gritted teeth, "Your grades, I found, were subpar. You were not even able to secure a spot at the University of Virginia. Do you know how ashamed I was? To look at my son and realize that I had failed to raise him properly? Then you insist, fighting tooth and nail after months of looking like a kicked puppy, to run off with God knows who, to Detroit of all places! Why, Nicholas?"

"I… I wanted to get away." I replied quietly, "My friends, father, after they died…"

"The vagrants that led you astray." My father said darkly, "Yes, I remember your… friends. They ruined you."

"I loved them!" I responded hotly, "Don't badmouth any of them!"

My father stood, enraged yet again, ready to yell at me.

"Stop it."

We both turned to look at my mother, who had spoken for the first time, "Stop it, the both of you." She said quietly, "This isn't how a family should act." Taking a deep breath, she looked at me, "Nicholas, I know we haven't been the best parents, but can you not admit to us that you haven't been the best son you can be?"

"Mom, I-"

She raised a hand, "No, Nicholas. You lied to us about your grades, about your friends, and where you were going for college. You may think that your father is hard on you, but do you not see how you have betrayed him? Both of us? Your actions, your secrets, they have consequences that you don't see, Nicholas. You've hurt us with them."

Apparently this was going to be a dinner of many revelations. Unlike my father or even myself, my mother wasn't much for making speeches, and she kept her opinions mostly to herself. She loved her job. She loved it more than she loved me, I believed bitterly, most of the time. Mother had never shown any interest in me until the curtain had been pulled back and I proved not to be the excellent student and son that she had always believed me to be. Even then, she left it all to my father to decide how to best handle me.

"Tell him, dear." My mom urged my father, causing me to look back at him questioningly.

I had never seen my father look so defeated as he did in that moment, "My father," He said heavily, "Your grandfather, Nicholas, is coming here to expand the family business in America. He will be here within the next year, and will be staying with us."

That was a shocking development, to say the least. I had never met my paternal grandfather, and only had my father's words to form a shadowy picture of the man who had raised him. I imagined him to be strict, uncompromising, and to abhor failure with a passion that had to at least match my own father's.

"He will be bringing your cousin Rafe," My father continued, "Who will be turning eighteen and will be attending college in America."

It made more sense to me now, as I attempted to fit pieces together, "Is that why you wanted me to go to UV so bad?" I wondered aloud, "You wanted me to impress grandfather?"

"Yes." My father admitted with a sigh, "I have sung your praises to him, Nicholas. Perhaps too much. You see… I was always a disappointment in your grandfather's eyes. I never had the talent for the business, not like my brother, your uncle. I paved my own way in life, with your mother to support me. If I hadn't had her, I would have never been able to become the man I am today."

"You are pretty good together." I said with a smile, "You practically run the hospital, you agree on everything… and neither of you really wanted me."

They shared a panicked look, "Oh Nicholas." My mother said shaking her head, "We do love you, and we did want you… but you arrived in our lives at such a bad time. We weren't ready for you."

"I understand." I said, and I really did. I just wished that this explanation hadn't taken so long to get to me, because I had never understood before. How could I understand my absentee parents, when this was by far the longest and deepest conversation we had shared, ever?

"This is why you must do better." My father said, "I need you to be the best you can be, Nicholas. If not for me, then for yourself when your grandfather comes. If he finds you not to his liking… he could cut us from the family completely. You will lose any chance of the inheritance that you deserve. You are a Stratus and you deserve the legacy that comes with it. I believe you deserve the world, Nicholas."

My father stared at me with a sudden intensity, and I realized for the first time that he wasn't just looking at me, but past me. He was looking towards the future and what he thought I could be.

"You just have to prove it." He said with finality, "To us, to your grandfather, and most of all, to yourself."

My return to Detroit wasn't heralded with much fanfare, and I arrived at the APA house sometime after two in the morning. In the dead of night, it looked especially foreboding to me, and I wondered if it hadn't been such a good idea to move in here. The fact that I was living under the same roof as Danae Lincoln alone should have scared me off.

When I entered the living room, I was somewhat surprised to find it still occupied, despite the late hour.

Vik saluted me with his beer when he saw me walk over to where the small group was relaxing by the fire, "Hey Virginia, how was home? Shuck any corn?"

"Hah, funny." I retorted, "It's not the boonies, you know. I have a pretty nice house." One that would probably get nicer. My father and mother spent the rest of our time together discussing the benefits of either moving to a bigger house or developing additions onto the one we already had. I was in favor of additions, but my father seemed more inclined to want to just move to a bigger place.

Larry Chen smiled woozily at me, "Cheers, Stratus." He was all but gone, drunk as a skunk, and still putting down even more. Unlike Vik, he had gone with the hard stuff. I spied an empty bottle of Vodka spun out in the corner, and I wondered if Larry had finished it all himself. Les's mentor sure smelled like he did, at least.

"Rejected from Harvard." Vik said to me in a stage whisper when I came to sit next to him on the couch by the fire, "But he got into U of M. That's probably the only reason he hasn't passed out drunk yet. Poor guy, it was his second choice."

"Fuck Harvard." Larry sobbed, all but crying. It was by far the most emotion I had ever seen from the stolid student body president.

"How was vacation, Stratus?" was the mild question from only other occupant in the room. Ruark was absorbed in a thick looking tome. He seemed, as a whole, disinclined to look up on principle.

I shrugged, "Alright." I could still feel the fading bruises of the many, many, stones that Les had pelted me with in an attempt to break open the Wise Gate quickly. Methods aside, I had to grudgingly admit that the month had gone very well. Already I felt like I had improved significantly enough that I felt light years from where I was before break had begun.

"Good to hear it." Vik said heartily, grabbing another beer from a cooler placed away from the fire, then fixed me with a heavy stare, "I might just have to test out how well you've improved myself."

I gulped and looked away, chuckling weakly, "Ha ha… yeah… maybe later."

"Don't scare the kid, Vik." Ruark chuckled, "What classes are you doing this semester, Stratus?"