Chapter 3 — Making Connections

Looking back on her ritual now in May, at the end of the school year, Rachel was still glad she'd been reckless enough to attempt something so foolhardy. Sure, she had a long, angry scar on the back of her leg and some purple crystals permanently fixed to the wall above her bed, but her new abilities the ritual brought were more than enough to make up for the damage. She was also now acutely more aware of just how badly such rituals could go—and more importantly, how lucky she'd been. Had she tried a more complicated ritual, or screwed up earlier in the process, there likely wouldn't have been an apartment left—much less a Rachel.

Rachel had gotten a lot of fearful looks from Will, and a stern lecture from her landlord Brian about what was allowed or not allowed for tenants. She managed to pass it off as a science experiment gone awry.

All in all, it had been a rousing success, and one she'd followed up on with (much more carefully considered) rituals to help ease her other mental faculties, such as her need for sleep. She could make do with only a couple of hours a night without any side effects, though her body still needed to be physically rested. Most of that time she spent reading or writing, or just browsing the Internet, learning everything she could about anything, while Will snored gently next to her. It was a hell of a hand up on her classwork as well.

She only had one class to attend today, thankfully. There was plenty of work to be done, and she would need as much time as possible to get it done before the meeting that night. Even with her advantages, there was only so much an accelerated mind could accomplish when so much of her work now was diplomatic or social in nature. The economic powers in the town were none too happy about the shifting structure that the newcomers brought, but they were helpless to resist when they couldn't possibly comprehend how their new competitors operated. After all, how could they strategize against magic, when they didn't even know it existed?

Rachel saw a niche to fill. She was a liaison, a buffer zone between the growing magical market and the more traditional shops that knew nothing of their budding regime. In time, she knew they'd be inevitably overtaken, but anything Rachel could do to ease the transition was worth it. Magic was still a secret to the world, and as far as she could tell totally localized to this one small town in middle of nowhere, Washington. As long as she could, Rachel intended to keep it that way—until they were ready.

Rachel sighed as she passed Hector's grocery. The store had never managed to turn a profit and had trouble lately even staying out of the red, so Rachel was currently propping it up with discreet funding she and Will were able to secure. Will had gotten into some very lucrative online trading marketplaces, as well as been at the forefront of the cryptocurrency boom, and his investments grew handsomely as parts of the world began to demand decentralized currency. Through the profits they brought in they were able to keep important allies afloat while the town stagnated.

Confidence in the world governments was lower than she'd ever seen, and she wanted to turn that into progress. Rachel believed the world was just waiting for something new and revolutionary to set off a powder keg of change. If she could pull it off, if her plans came to fruition, magic would ignite that spark and Rachel would help steer the world to a brighter, happier future.

"Hi, Boris," Rachel greeted warmly as she passed.

"Dobroye utro, Miss DuValle," Boris Morozov answered politely, in his curious way of mixing heavily accented Russian with perfectly enunciated English whenever she was around. Good morning.

She was still learning Russian, and many other languages, but she knew enough to catch his meaning. He'd been helping her learn what she couldn't get from books and online tutors. He glanced up from his stack of books he was unloading from his black pickup to give her a warm smile. Rachel gave him a little wave as she passed his store, the cheerful Books by Boris sign swinging just above his head from a short black pole. He nodded in return, his hands quite full.

She walked by, greeting the next shop owner after him, and the next. Most she only greeted out of habit, as they seemed unremarkable, and in her mind she merely catalogued them for later use. Boris was a special case, though.

She hadn't yet decided why, but something stood out about him—something beyond the oddity of a Russian national living in such a remote town as this. Given his age, she suspected him to have grown up in the former Soviet Union, though his perfect English suggested he'd lived in the States a long time. Rachel had resolved to ask him about it one day, but something still kept her back, a prickle of fear. Maybe it was the way he still maintained his strong physique even as his age advanced, in stark contrast to such a calm career as the owner of a little bookstore.

She stopped just around the corner at the end of the block, and looked around surreptitiously. With no one paying her much attention, Rachel leaned against the wall, letting her mind drift even as she focused her thoughts to a dagger's point on the rough area where Boris still stood. As the contradictory state pushed and pulled at her brain, she could feel it pressing into her vision, a small burst of pain rolling through her eyes as the orbs contracted slightly, pressure from an unknown source grasping at them, while the colors of the world shifted ever so slightly.

This was something Will had taught her, though for some reason she seemed far more adept at it than Will had ever managed. Maybe it was something like Rika had hypothesized, affinities and specialities, but Rachel hadn't seen enough data to come to any conclusion yet. It was one of the few spells that she could accomplish regularly without significant exertion. Maybe she really was adverse to other types of magic. She hoped it wasn't the case. An allergy or other aversion to an entire branch of magic seemed like a huge disadvantage, and Rachel needed every edge she could get.

She pushed harder, forcing the strange split in her mind wider. All of the color in the world began to desaturate, and the edges of objects grew less distinct. As she let the world shimmer in front of her eyes, the faint lines began to appear, much like the cloudy, hazy energy she'd seen in that ritual months ago. These were unmoving, however, and merely draped themselves between people, or to objects they were particularly attached to. Indeed, as she tried to examine Boris from a distance, she could see those faint lines connecting him to some of the books in his stack, as well as a few stronger lines trailing off toward his store.

One particularly strong line reached out to his pickup truck, which didn't surprise her, and one remarkably solid line to the room above his shop. Nothing too useful, though she was surprised he apparently lived at the shop and not at the house he owned on the outskirts of town. Nothing he was tied to, or people he cared about. Boris Morozov was still a cipher to her—one of the few remaining in the entire town.

As the pressure continued to build on her eyes, and her skull began a faint pounding from the effort, Rachel released the magic back to wherever it came from, and the world shifted back into normal colors once more. She let out a huge breath from the exertion, letting the wall hold her up for a moment while she gathered herself. After a moment's rest, she was off once more down the street, greeting the entire town as she went as if nothing had happened.

"It's a mess," Kendra Laushire agreed, as they examined the map on her desk. Rachel had joined her at her small estate on the west end of town. Kendra leaned over the table, her fiery curls brushing the surface as she pored over the proposal schematic. Rachel marveled once more at how she managed to keep her hair so gorgeous despite its length and clear rebellious attitude toward anything resembling organization. "He asked for this much space?"

"It'll encroach over a few normal people," Rachel pointed out, "but no Awakened should be directly affected."

Kendra shook her head. "You shouldn't categorize people like that. It'll come to a bad end."

Rachel privately disagreed. Everyone categorized everyone else, that was human nature. It was the only way human beings knew how to interact with the world, by interpreting, categorizing and learning from patterns. This was just yet another category they had at their disposal; those with magic and those without. Still, arguing with Kendra Laushire wasn't about to get her very far.

"He's offering a pretty penny for it," Kendra noted with interest.

"Isn't that like nothing to you?"

She frowned. "It's not about my wealth, dear," Kendra replied dismissively, in the way only an upper-class British woman could, "it's about his own. A sum like this is princely for a man who makes fourteen quid an hour driving a lorry round town."

Rachel conceded the point. She hadn't factored in Julian's own wealth. "My mistake. You're right, of course. It's a lot for a donation to the council."

"Don't fret," Kendra said, still a tad condescending. "Either way, you're right about it not affecting the town. The students have mostly gone home for break. Did he declare his intentions for the space?"

"He didn't."

"Well, that's settled then. We can't be giving out massive tracts of land to a man who won't tell us what manner of devilry he intends to wreak upon it. Not after that mess with the Grey cult," Kendra declared.

"Like he's just going to up and tell us?" Rachel furrowed her brow.

"Doubtful. Anything this big, Julian will keep close to the chest. He's not one for sharing, unfortunately. We'll have to force him in front of the council."

"I can't imagine him doing something as insane as trying to summon Gray-eyes by way of burning down a forest. At least Cinza helped us put a stop to it in time."

"Quite."

"He's not really popular enough to have the votes though, is he? I could test the waters, try to get a nose count."

"Well, I'd say don't bother, but sadly he seems intent on ruining our summer with whatever madness he's cooking up. I'm terribly curious to figure out what manner of ritual it entails." Kendra leaned back in her chair, grabbing a sheet off one stack of papers. "By the way, Rachel, you scored a ninety-three on your final exam. You're slipping a little. Did something change with your own ritual?"

"You knew?" Rachel asked, taken aback.

Kendra shrugged, not looking up from the paper she was scribbling through with her favorite red pen. "I know a thing or two about seeing magic in the air. You seem to be in constant flux in your own brain. That can't be healthy."

"I'm fine," Rachel insisted, though the information did trouble her. Fluctuations of magic in my brain?

Before she could get Kendra to elaborate, the phone in the corner of the room practically flung itself off its cradle with a earsplitting ring. Kendra had a particularly old looking rotary-style phone, but it was strictly superficial. The electronics inside were as modern as could be. It was all a façade. Kendra was simply old-fashioned enough that she hadn't transitioned to cell phones entirely, though with her wealth she kept everything in the best quality, upgrading regularly.

She picked up the receiver and muttered a few words that Rachel couldn't quite make out. Kendra was doing something to muffle her voice, she was sure of it. After a minute or so, Kendra set the receiver down with a worried look on her face.

"It was Will. Something's happening," she said abruptly.

"Where?"

"You'd better hurry. It's near the old library."

Rachel stood up immediately. "Do I need anything?"

Kendra latched shut Rachel's bag with the new materials she had purchased. She handed it over with a frown. "I don't expect so, but do be careful anyway, dear. We do still need you around."