Page 29

As much as I want to immediately head over to UCLA to investigate the Order after school, I can’t. I have the one thing a month I absolutely cannot ditch: the council meeting.

The Mages’ Council oversees all magical regulations in Los Angeles; they enforce legislation, provide guidance and protection from natural disasters, and work with the mayor’s office on public affairs, which also means hearing the complaints of anyone who wants to come to the public town hall portion of the meeting.

“And who is going to pay for the damages to my storefront?”

“Mr. Eckles, it is the responsibility of every business owner to manage—”

“My insurance said they can’t cover any wyvern damage, that’s a separate policy, but mana surges should count as a natural disaster!” The man’s face is a bright, boiling red as he grips the podium.

The council regards him gravely, their faces impassive. I feel sorry for Mr. Eckles and the entire group of business owners who came forward with this petition to request the city pay for the severe damages from the last mana surge.

Next to me, Dad rereads his notes on his runebook on the speech he prepared for his petition. As usual, they’ve scheduled him toward the end. I pat his arm and his chin wobbles.

I hate this. I hate that he still tries.

I hate that they keep jerking us around like this.

I’ve given up on them ever saying yes, but every month like clockwork Dad always submits the same petition, and the council always denies his request for the return of Mom’s body.

They always say it’s because they don’t know how the Ritual is affecting her, or that removing her remains could decrease the stability of the spell, but who even knows.

It’s awful, the way they keep her here. All we want to do is bury her.

I grit my teeth, hoping time moves faster. I want this to be over and done with so I can head over to UCLA. I had marked precisely where that guy spent the most time on campus before the tracker wore off and prepared a bunch of spells to help me sneak around.

It worked out with the meeting being tonight, actually.

Dad always wants to be alone after these hearings and he goes to the Santa Monica Pier, where he and Mom used ride the Ferris wheel together on their date nights.

I always prepare a teleport programmed for home for him in case he forgets to charge his runebook.

I thought I had bought more at Target, but I must have forgotten—luckily I found a spare one for him in the cupboard before we left.

Mr. Eckles shakes the podium. “My hardware store melted away before my very eyes and you can’t do anything about it?”

“Public resources are already stretched thin as it is,” Mayor Prattlesby says, his perfectly coiffed blond hair wavering as he shakes his head sadly. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Eckles, but we can’t change the city’s policies on insurance damage and—”

Another woman from the crowd stands up. “How dare you stand there and say you are protecting this city when you haven’t done anything!”

More irate constituents start berating the Mages’ Council, barely taking turns at the podium spelled with enhanced audio projection. There are so many business owners that they can’t fit within the spell’s radius, and the volume keeps cutting in and out.

Gravery Kirkpatrick bangs his gavel and then stands up.

He’s the head of the council and looks like he’s almost a hundred years old, but I’m pretty sure he’s only a little older than Dad.

He’s one of the few people who have participated in the Ritual and survived, and has been on the council ever since.

His papery thin skin is almost translucent, and I can see the veins throbbing with blue-purple blood even from my seat in the back row.

His voice echoes with a solemn authority that Mayor Prattlesby has never had.

“It is not the Mages’ Council’s responsibility to secure your storefronts against damage,” he says. “There will be no financial restitution for any of the petitioners present.”

The crowd gathered in the hall murmurs in discontent, and people start shouting accusations and demands.

“You know what you can do to stop the mana surges,” Mr. Eckles says, shaking with anger. “That is your responsibility!”

Mayor Prattlesby gulps. “Ah yes, however, the Stabilization Ritual is not scheduled for another two years—”

Dolores Mendoza clears her throat. She’s usually the voice of the council, a steady affirming voice to the public’s fears.

“Due to the increase in frequency and intensity of recent mana surges, the Mages’ Council has evaluated the nature of the current situation.

We have determined that for the sake of public safety that the Ritual be recast as soon as possible.

We have determined the most effective time to cast the next Stabilization Ritual will be at the zenith of the next new moon, May twenty-second. ”

A palpable sense of relief rushes through the crowd, and people start murmuring to each other. The business owners leave the podium, and Mr. Eckles shakes his fist at the council. “And what if there’s another surge before then?”

“Then I suggest, Mr. Eckles, you take proper precautions,” says a thin, reedy woman—Selina Alvarez—at the end of the council’s table.

Mayor Prattlesby coughs. He catches my eye and gives me an apologetic look.

“Then, as standard, I’d like to announce that the council formally invites any volunteers for the cornerstones of the Stabilization Ritual to submit their applications no later than May fifteenth.

Please note that all volunteers under eighteen must have the permission of a parent or guardian to participate. ”

Dad glances at me and speaks in a low voice. “The date they chose—”

“Before my birthday, I know .” My heart is pounding. I knew this day was coming, I just didn’t know it would be so soon.

Other people in our row seem to recognize who we are, and start whispering again.

Dad looks at me, a heavy weight behind his eyes.

We haven’t really talked since he got rid of all of Mom’s things, and now that there seems to be a deadline to my destiny—I don’t know what to say.

I don’t even know where to start. Would he encourage me to volunteer?

Or would he give me the perfect excuse to bow out— sorry, guys, Dad just didn’t let me ?

“Next petitioner, Samuel Woo,” says Mayor Prattlesby.

I give Dad an encouraging nod.

He takes a deep breath and adjusts his cravat. His broad shoulders tower over the podium, and he addresses the crowd with a solemn sincerity.

“You may have known Victoria Woo for her kindness and the way she supported her community; she was always the first to offer her time to our neighbors, to people she had just met,” Dad says, his eyes watering with unshed tears.

“Her cutting-edge research in archival magic and spellcraft techniques was just one of the ways she applied her talent and sparkling intelligence.”

I take a deep breath to steady myself as he talks about Mom; people in the crowd are nodding, captivated and hanging on every word in collective grief as Dad shares.

“She was my soulmate. My best friend. Her laugh was like the sun breaking through the clouds on a gloomy day,” Dad says.

“When our Kat was born,” he says, wiping a tear from his eye, “Victoria told me, ‘Sorry, love, but you’re gonna have to settle for being my number two now. She’s always going to be my priority. ’”

Fond chuckles echo throughout the room. Even Gravery Kirkpatrick is smiling. Dad usually just talks about Mom’s work in the community and her research and how she volunteered to be a cornerstone to protect people, and one bit about how much he loved her, but this part is new.

Dad catches my eye. “There’s never been a higher honor to me than being a father. Our family was—is—” He stumbles a bit here, and catches himself and gives me a small smile, like a promise. “You’re always my number one, Kat,” he says. “I’m so proud of you every day.”

I nod back at him, not trusting myself to speak.

I always felt like this speech was so distant, describing Mom as a pillar of society, but he’s taken the time to add all this stuff about himself and me.

It feels vulnerable, and honest, and I know he’s still grieving, too.

Maybe packing up Mom’s things is how he’s coping.

It doesn’t mean he doesn’t miss her, too, he’s just dealing with it in a different way.

Dad tells a story about me as a toddler watching in awe as Mom levitated bubbles that leaves everyone laughing and me blushing about my antics as a two-year-old, and then everyone listens as he proudly shares how Mom taught me over the years, how she watched me work my first levitation spell at eleven years old.

My throat wobbles and I fight back tears as he finishes the speech with his usual plea to the council about her remains so we can have a memorial.

Usually at this point I’m tired and just want the council to get it over with and tell us no, but today feels different, it feels so much more personal—like we actually might stand a chance.

“My daughter deserves the right to say goodbye,” Dad says. “As do I.”

The hall is quiet. I can feel every solemn look from the council members I’ve come to recognize from this torturous, monthly ordeal.

Mayor Prattlesby looks up from his central seat in the council, back and forth at their faces. His eyes fall on Gravery Kirkpatrick’s stern and unmoving face next to him. Kirkpatrick shakes his head once.

The mayor gives Dad a watery smile. “Thank you, Mr. Woo. Unfortunately, due to the complexities of the Ritual and the nature of the deceased, we cannot release any remains to you.”

Dad exhales and ducks his head. “Thank you for your time.”

He walks away from the podium as the next constituent approaches the stage.

Shannon is sitting in the front row, looking subdued in a brocade of emerald green.

She gives me a sad wave before she stands up to give Dad a comforting hug.

Shannon whispers something in his ear and then lets go, looking back at her husband sitting in the center of the long table with the council and giving him an admonishing glare.

Mayor Prattlesby wilts a little under her gaze and gives her a sheepish sort of I had to shrug before mouthing I’m sorry to Dad.

Dad nods back at him weakly before walking down the aisle, his shoulders hunched in defeat. He approaches me quietly in the back row.

“Thank you for coming with me. Shannon says she’ll talk to Chris, but can’t promise anything. You know how they are.”

Yeah, I definitely know. “Of course, Dad.”

He gets that sad lip wobble he always does, but I know he doesn’t want to talk. I hand him his bag. “Your transport spell and all the ingredients to get home are in there. I’ll see you later. I’m gonna spend some time in the atrium library and get some research done for a paper for Vega.”

Dad hugs me suddenly, squeezing the air out of my lungs.

“You’re doing research for Advanced Spelling,” he breathes. “I’m so proud of you for investing in your studies, honey.”

I feel a twinge of guilt as I hug him back. “All right, I’ll be home by midnight. I love you.”

He chuckles. “I love you, too, Kat.” He kisses me on the forehead and gives me a sad smile. “You look more and more like her every day. She’d be so proud of you. Our darling, talented daughter. Just like her mother.” He wipes at his eyes. “I’ll see you at home. Have a good study session.”

If Mom were here, if she knew what was going on—I think she would be proud of me. She’d be right next to me, having convinced me to wear some sort of silly all-black spy outfit, giggling with excitement.

I wait until Dad is out of sight and then take a deep breath. “All right, Mom, let’s figure out what this Order is up to.”