Page 12 of Malcroix Bones Academy (Bones and Shadow #1)

Winged figures flashed by, and as I squinted at them, I felt even more certain that it was people I was seeing.

They flew through the sky at breakneck speeds, with massive, eagle-like wings strapped to their backs.

Most carried briefcases, or wore satchels, or backpacks.

Their long coats flapped in the breeze. It might have been ridiculously funny under different circumstances, but as it was, I could only stare at them, watching them dive and swerve as they flew high above the roads.

From that greater vantage point, I also saw a number of vehicles.

Most seemed to be drawn by some kind of animal?not horses exactly, although they looked a bit like large horses from a distance.

They moved incredibly fast, with an eerily smooth gait, pulling colorful carriages.

Like at home, the larger the carriage, the more animals drew it.

The largest one I saw had sixteen of the midnight-black creatures running in front of it, and looked to be three stories high.

I also saw a few red, double-decker buses, which threw me. Those didn’t appear to be drawn by any animal, but unlike the buses at home, they were silent, and a few times, I swore I saw them wink in and out of existence.

In the distance, tall skyscrapers darkened the horizon.

From the window of the hotel, it looked similar to the downtown of the London I remembered, but again, something about those buildings looked off.

The shapes weren’t quite the same, the glass windows glinted differently in the sunlight, and I swore some of them appeared to be moving?

“Are you going to eat?” Ankha asked crisply. “Or just stand there, mouth open, like an imbecile?” She snapped her wrist to unfold her napkin. “Do you really not have any awareness of how you look when you do that?”

I turned my head, and saw my aunt tucked into the table. She didn’t look up as she poured herself a glass of a violet-colored juice.

“…Although,” Ankha conceded next. “I strongly prefer that you do your gawking here, rather than out on the street.”

I walked over to the table and sat down.

I pulled my own napkin onto my lap, and, after a brief hesitation, took some toast for my plate, then sausages, and what looked like a spinach and cheese quiche.

“Magique?” I ventured to her. “That’s what this place is called?”

“Yes. Obviously. How many times must I say things?”

I bit my lip, but kept my voice civil. “How did we get here?”

“You saw it. An official doorway was installed on the property when I was made your guardians,” Ankha replied.

“It’s regulated, of course.” Her voice dropped to a resentful mutter.

“More like a prison than an honor, with the Praecuri breathing down my neck every other day, and spying on me whenever it suits them.”

My jaw flexed. It was difficult not to point out they’d have a hard time spying on Ankha if they watched the Victorian house, given she was never there.

“Praecuri?” I asked instead. “What is that?”

Ankha gave me a shrewd look. “You sure you want to get into that now?”

“Yes,” I insisted.

Ankha took a sip of tea, muttered a few more words, then seemed to make up her mind.

“Your mother worked for them, before you were born,” she said.

“She was what we call a praecurus. It’s a job category…

a quite well-respected one, or was until recently.

The Praecuri are tasked with oversight in Overworld.

They keep order, ensure it remains free of Magicals, and, of course, try to influence Overworlders in positive directions.

” She scoffed, communicating what she thought of that endeavor.

“I suppose you might liken them to your Overworld police. Or possibly a covert branch of your military.”

I turned this over.

“Are you a…” I struggled with the word. “…Praecurus? Like mum?”

“No.” Ankha stared at me coldly. Shrugging, she set down her teacup. “I have done research for them on occasion,” she conceded. “And other small jobs.”

“But Mum wasn’t in research,” I clarified.

Ankha quirked an eyebrow. “No, she was not. Clotide was a decorated agent, the most senior in her department. She trained for years to be able to operate seamlessly in Overworld, and to address the most serious crimes there. She served with distinction throughout her career.” She sniffed. “Until she met your father.”

Disapproval dripped from her words.

“Your father was a police detective for Scotland Yard,” Anhka added. “Homicide. Intimate relations between the Praecuri and Overworlders are strictly forbidden. At that time, it was punishable by death.”

My fingers gripped my fork and knife so tightly, my knuckles went white.

“Since then,” Ankha went on. “There’s been what you might call a change of heart, at least in terms of the harshness of that sentence. Your mother’s death?”

“Murder,” I muttered.

There was a silence, then Ankha shrugged, as if the difference was academic.

“It outraged many in our world,” she said. “There was a big enough outcry that the laws got changed?”

I scoffed. I couldn’t help it.

“?We’re an old and well-known family.” Ankha aimed a scathing stare at me.

“And your mother was well-liked. Before her death, the law on Overworld fraternization hadn’t changed in thousands of years.

Even before she returned to the United Kingdom, many called for restraint in her case.

They wanted her arrested and tried… not executed.

The Federation Europa of the Ancient Race agreed?”

“The what?” I asked.

My aunt dismissed this with a wave. “The point is, everyone assumed she would be arrested. That she would be imprisoned, not killed.”

“So why didn’t that happen?” I asked.

Ankha’s lips pursed. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” I fought to keep my voice level. “You said ‘no one wanted her executed,’ but obviously someone did. It’s been over nine years. Hasn’t there been any kind of investigation?”

“Obviously.”

“They have no leads? No suspects?” I scowled when my aunt continued to give me that flat stare. “Someone gave the order. And someone did the killing. Others besides the Praecuri must have seen it. I remember?”

“You’re getting off the point entirely,” Ankha cut in, impatient. “I’m telling you that your mother’s death was highly unpopular. The outcry was loud. So loud, the Federation Europa changed the entire way such incidents could be handled in future.”

I bit my lip. I fought with whether to press the point, and decided on a partial retreat. “Changed in what way?”

“Like I said, the crime of interbreeding is no longer punishable by death.” Ankha sniffed.

“Then there’s the matter of you and your brother…

the children. Before Clotide, any offspring from a union like your parents’ would have been monitored until they came of age, and exterminated if they showed any Magical ability.

If those offspring were entirely non-Magical, they would be allowed to remain in Overworld to live a regular, human life.

But Magicals, even half-blooded Magicals, were not permitted to exist in Overworld.

Suppression rarely works on adult Magicals for long. Eventually they would show?”

“So why not just bring them back here?” I asked, frowning.

Ankha let out a low, humorless snort.

“The idea of bringing a halfbreed here, to Magique, would have been absolutely abhorrent until recently. Very recently,” she emphasized. “The mere suggestion would have been preposterous even twenty years ago.”

“Why?” I demanded.

“Why do you think?” Ankha shot back, scoffing.

“You lived in Overworld. You know what they’re like.

Does it really surprise you? No one wants wars and famines and misery here.

Our world may not be perfect, but it’s not the cesspit of death, slow extinction, and filth that seems to be the goal of Overworld. ”

My jaw hardened. Now that my aunt was finally talking, however, the last thing I wanted was to make it stop.

“The outrage over your mother’s death led to a number of very highly-publicized changes,” Ankha continued.

“Such dalliances now would require a full trial in our world, not summary execution. If guilt were determined, a life sentence is now the highest legal penalty permitted. It was also decided, at least in the case of your mother, that reparations for her death would fall to you and your brother.”

I blinked. “Arcturus and I are reparations?”

“Yes,” Ankha warned, her eyes sharp as glass.

“It was decided by the highest court in Magique Britain that if either of Clotide’s offspring showed significant Magical ability, they would be allowed to assimilate here, rather than being…

” She waved a dismissive hand. “…Terminated. As had been the practice in the past.”

“Murdered, you mean,” I muttered.

Ankha shrugged.

“Whatever.” She leaned back in her thickly-cushioned, flowery chair.

“It was a very generous concession, given our previous laws. It was also deemed a kind of ‘experiment,’ in the event any future hybrids were to be born. A number of stipulations exist. Any hybrid living in Magique must assimilate fully, and never be allowed to leave. Obviously, that meant you’d be banned from work in any profession that could bring you into Overworld, and certainly you could never become a member of the Praecuri yourself. ”

I frowned and started to open my mouth, but my aunt continued tartly.

“Your mother was quite well thought of, as I said. Our mother, your grandmother, was well thought of, as well. She was also in the Praecuri, as it tends to run in families. You can thank our good name for the changes in the law. That, and…” Another sniff.

“…a somewhat more tolerant bent in society since the original laws were written.”

Ankha looked away long enough to bite down on a crispy piece of sausage.

She swallowed a few chews later. “The fact that your father was in law enforcement, and they met while working a case together in Overworld, lent sympathy to your situation, as well.”

I sat back in my chair.

“My father wasn’t in Scotland Yard, though,” I said. “He was a teacher.”

“After, yes,” Ankha said. “Do you think your mother was unaware of the law? When she was one of those tasked with enforcing it?” She scoffed. “She hid all of you from the Praecuri for years. Of course your father wouldn’t be able to continue his career in law enforcement.”

“Then why did she go back?” I asked. “Why return to London at all?”

“We do not know,” Ankha said.

I frowned, skeptical. “Mum said we were visiting family.”

“I highly doubt that was true,” Ankha replied.

I silently agreed.

“But what could have caused her to take that kind of risk?” I persisted. “If it wasn’t some kind of family emergency, what was it?”

Ankha rolled her eyes. Leaning over the table, she plucked a piece of bread from the basket and began buttering it viciously with a stubby knife.

“I’ve told you,” she said. “No one knows why she came back. Just as no one knows ‘who gave the order,’ as you put it. As you can likely imagine, there have been many whispers of plots and conspiracies around this in the years since. Many believe she was lured. Those accused range from the head of the Praecuri to the most infamous among our Dark Magicals. Some believe the Ethnarch himself was involved?”

“What was the official story?” I asked.

“That your father’s human mother was ill, and he wished to see her.”

“But you don’t believe that?” I clarified.

“No,” Ankha scoffed. “I doubt anyone does. Including the Praecuri.”

A silence fell between us as I struggled to think about all of this.

“What do you think?” I asked finally. “Do you think she was lured?”

Ankha stared at me over the table, her blue eyes more raptor-like than usual.

“I have no reason to ‘think’ anything about it at all, girl,” she said.

“I wasn’t privy to the evidence of the case.

I do know that as soon as your mother set foot in England, she tripped a magical trace the Praecuri had placed around the bounds of the island.

As to what happened before that and after… I haven’t any idea.”

I pushed my plate away, losing the last of my appetite. My eyes returned to the view over the stone balcony, but I struggled to focus.

Ankha cleared her throat.

“I will say this,” she added. “No one could ‘lure’ Clotide unless she allowed herself to be. Your mother was a lot of things, but stupid was never one of them. I don’t know what brought my sister back to England, but she would have known the likelihood of a trap waiting for her.

She came, anyway. She even brought her children.

” Ankha shrugged. “Whatever her reasons, they must have been important.”

I stared at her. “So who do you think?”

“That’s enough on this,” Ankha cut in. “I’ve said all I plan to say on the subject.”

I bit my tongue.

After a few seconds of silence, I forced myself to let it go.

It was the most my aunt had ever spoken to me on any subject.

It was definitely the most real information I’d ever gotten about my parents’ deaths.