Wildfire
Page 97
“The Office of Records thanks House Sagredo for their services.”
Alessandro gave a short nod and walked off to the other door. Wow. That was the first time I had ever seen anyone besides us shrug off Catalina’s magic.
My sister was pronounced a Prime. She came and sat by me. I hugged her.
It was now Arabella’s turn. The arbiters stared holes in her as she walked to the white line. She wore a white robe and nothing else. She seemed so tiny, just a short, petite blond girl standing on the line.
“The Office will test your ability to reason,” the Keeper told her.
A massive blackboard slid from the ceiling and stopped, suspended high above the floor. A piece of chalk as wide as a telephone pole hung from it on a chain.
“Once you transform, you will flip this blackboard. You will see a series of mathematical equations. You must solve them. This will demonstrate to us that you are truly a Prime Metamorphosis and you are in control of your abilities.”
“Does it have to be math?” Arabella asked. “Can I write a short essay?”
“Math is the ultimate test of reason,” the Keeper said.
My youngest sister sighed. “Okay.”
“Transform at will.”
My sister held up her robe. “Don’t look.”
The Keeper lowered his eyes.
The Beast of Cologne tore out of my sister.
The arbiters froze. Some gasped, petrified, others tried to move and slid their chairs back.
The shaggy nightmare shook herself, stomped over to the blackboard, and flipped it over.
67+13=
7x11=
981/8=
She pointed at the last one with the chalk, turned, and looked at the Keeper.
“Do your best,” the Keeper said.
Arabella heaved a sigh. The first one gave her no trouble, although at some point she counted on her clawed fingers. The second she solved in seconds. The third . . .
“It’s baby math,” Catalina growled. “I could do this in my sleep in second grade.”
Arabella ran out of blackboard space, crouched, and began dividing on the floor.
“This is what we get for teaching them Common Core,” one of the arbiters said.
“There is nothing wrong with Common Core,” someone else said.
Arabella wrote, “This sucks!” on the floor and kept dividing. Finally, she stood up, wrote 124 on the board, and glared at the Keeper. Catalina slapped her hand over her face.
“I say we take it,” Linus said. “Otherwise we might be here all night.”
Fifteen minutes later, House Baylor, triumphant, emerged from the Office of Records. Finally. We won. Nothing was hanging over our heads. The conspiracy was thrashing in its death throes. We secured immunity for our family for the next three years. Rogan asked me to marry him. There were things to solve in the future: me moving out, a new base of operations, finding money to keep up with our new status. But those things would wait.
I wanted to celebrate.
My family walked to the cars. Rogan turned to me.
“Take a ride with me?”
“Where to?”
“I thought we’d go to the country for a couple of hours.”
“What’s in the country?”
“My mother.”
“You’re taking me home to meet your mother?”
“She can’t wait to meet you. In fact, if I don’t bring you over, I might be in danger. Will you come with me?” He held out his hand.
“Always.” I put my hand into his. I wasn’t sure what the future would bring, but I knew I wouldn’t face it alone.
Connor smiled at me, and we walked together to his car.
“Would you like a formal engagement celebration?” he asked.
“No.”
“So just a ring then?”
“A sensible ring.”
“Define sensible.”
“Something I could wear every day while doing my job and not be afraid to lose, because it’s too expensive.”
He didn’t say anything.
“I mean it, Rogan. Do not buy me a one of a kind diamond the size of a grape.”
He laughed, my mad, mad dragon.
“I’m serious!”
“Of course, dear.”
This was going to be one wild ride.
Victoria Tremaine strolled through the garden path, painfully conscious of the man next to her. Roses bloomed on both sides. She never cared for roses. She preferred simpler, sturdier flowers. Like carnations.
“You have to admit, for a prison, this is rather posh,” the man said.
“A prison is a prison, even if it comes in the shape of a country club.”
“Think of it as a long-deserved vacation. Something tells me it won’t last long.”
They strolled on.
“Your granddaughter sent shock waves through H-town.”
Victoria smiled.
“Last I heard, they are beginning construction of a new family home. Not far from House Rogan’s country place, from what I understand.”
“Who wants a long commute to visit the family,” Victoria said.
“Indeed.”
“Whatever happened to that little weasel, the one who started this mess. Brian Sherwood? I heard his brother killed him.”
“He did. Disemboweled him with one of Sturm’s swords apparently.”
“I didn’t think he’d have the guts.”
“Victoria! You’re terrible.”
“I thought that was quite clever. What about the wife?”
“Edward and Rynda are engaged. They are retiring to the West Coast. Apparently, Edward wants to grow apples on an orchard, and she can’t wait to go with him.”
They strolled some more.
“Do they suspect you?” she asked.
“No. They’ve made their last round of arrests from Olivia’s files. I’m in the clear. The cause isn’t dead, Victoria. We will build New Rome. It will take time, a few years perhaps, but we will persevere.”
“Without me.”
“That would be a shame.”
“There is nothing you can offer me,” she said.
“Oh, I don’t know. You might change your mind. You’re like me, Victoria.” He grinned. “You like to do things that make life interesting. We both do so hate to be bored.”
Alessandro gave a short nod and walked off to the other door. Wow. That was the first time I had ever seen anyone besides us shrug off Catalina’s magic.
My sister was pronounced a Prime. She came and sat by me. I hugged her.
It was now Arabella’s turn. The arbiters stared holes in her as she walked to the white line. She wore a white robe and nothing else. She seemed so tiny, just a short, petite blond girl standing on the line.
“The Office will test your ability to reason,” the Keeper told her.
A massive blackboard slid from the ceiling and stopped, suspended high above the floor. A piece of chalk as wide as a telephone pole hung from it on a chain.
“Once you transform, you will flip this blackboard. You will see a series of mathematical equations. You must solve them. This will demonstrate to us that you are truly a Prime Metamorphosis and you are in control of your abilities.”
“Does it have to be math?” Arabella asked. “Can I write a short essay?”
“Math is the ultimate test of reason,” the Keeper said.
My youngest sister sighed. “Okay.”
“Transform at will.”
My sister held up her robe. “Don’t look.”
The Keeper lowered his eyes.
The Beast of Cologne tore out of my sister.
The arbiters froze. Some gasped, petrified, others tried to move and slid their chairs back.
The shaggy nightmare shook herself, stomped over to the blackboard, and flipped it over.
67+13=
7x11=
981/8=
She pointed at the last one with the chalk, turned, and looked at the Keeper.
“Do your best,” the Keeper said.
Arabella heaved a sigh. The first one gave her no trouble, although at some point she counted on her clawed fingers. The second she solved in seconds. The third . . .
“It’s baby math,” Catalina growled. “I could do this in my sleep in second grade.”
Arabella ran out of blackboard space, crouched, and began dividing on the floor.
“This is what we get for teaching them Common Core,” one of the arbiters said.
“There is nothing wrong with Common Core,” someone else said.
Arabella wrote, “This sucks!” on the floor and kept dividing. Finally, she stood up, wrote 124 on the board, and glared at the Keeper. Catalina slapped her hand over her face.
“I say we take it,” Linus said. “Otherwise we might be here all night.”
Fifteen minutes later, House Baylor, triumphant, emerged from the Office of Records. Finally. We won. Nothing was hanging over our heads. The conspiracy was thrashing in its death throes. We secured immunity for our family for the next three years. Rogan asked me to marry him. There were things to solve in the future: me moving out, a new base of operations, finding money to keep up with our new status. But those things would wait.
I wanted to celebrate.
My family walked to the cars. Rogan turned to me.
“Take a ride with me?”
“Where to?”
“I thought we’d go to the country for a couple of hours.”
“What’s in the country?”
“My mother.”
“You’re taking me home to meet your mother?”
“She can’t wait to meet you. In fact, if I don’t bring you over, I might be in danger. Will you come with me?” He held out his hand.
“Always.” I put my hand into his. I wasn’t sure what the future would bring, but I knew I wouldn’t face it alone.
Connor smiled at me, and we walked together to his car.
“Would you like a formal engagement celebration?” he asked.
“No.”
“So just a ring then?”
“A sensible ring.”
“Define sensible.”
“Something I could wear every day while doing my job and not be afraid to lose, because it’s too expensive.”
He didn’t say anything.
“I mean it, Rogan. Do not buy me a one of a kind diamond the size of a grape.”
He laughed, my mad, mad dragon.
“I’m serious!”
“Of course, dear.”
This was going to be one wild ride.
Victoria Tremaine strolled through the garden path, painfully conscious of the man next to her. Roses bloomed on both sides. She never cared for roses. She preferred simpler, sturdier flowers. Like carnations.
“You have to admit, for a prison, this is rather posh,” the man said.
“A prison is a prison, even if it comes in the shape of a country club.”
“Think of it as a long-deserved vacation. Something tells me it won’t last long.”
They strolled on.
“Your granddaughter sent shock waves through H-town.”
Victoria smiled.
“Last I heard, they are beginning construction of a new family home. Not far from House Rogan’s country place, from what I understand.”
“Who wants a long commute to visit the family,” Victoria said.
“Indeed.”
“Whatever happened to that little weasel, the one who started this mess. Brian Sherwood? I heard his brother killed him.”
“He did. Disemboweled him with one of Sturm’s swords apparently.”
“I didn’t think he’d have the guts.”
“Victoria! You’re terrible.”
“I thought that was quite clever. What about the wife?”
“Edward and Rynda are engaged. They are retiring to the West Coast. Apparently, Edward wants to grow apples on an orchard, and she can’t wait to go with him.”
They strolled some more.
“Do they suspect you?” she asked.
“No. They’ve made their last round of arrests from Olivia’s files. I’m in the clear. The cause isn’t dead, Victoria. We will build New Rome. It will take time, a few years perhaps, but we will persevere.”
“Without me.”
“That would be a shame.”
“There is nothing you can offer me,” she said.
“Oh, I don’t know. You might change your mind. You’re like me, Victoria.” He grinned. “You like to do things that make life interesting. We both do so hate to be bored.”
