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I kept my face level as Berta raised a hand, palm flat, fingers outstretched, just inches from my wound. The breath caught in my throat as the last of the blood oozed out of the wound, as the edges of my skin began to stitch back together over the break in my body. I stared in horror, in awe, my gaze flitting from Berta, to Thea, and back. This miracle, of my skin healing itself completely in front of their eyes, it was nothing to them. Just another day at the office. Just another patient.
Berta wiped a fresh piece of gauze against my chest, sopping up traces of blood. I winced in preparation for the pain, but there wasn’t any, only unbroken skin, and the shiny, ragged tissue of a telltale scar. The breath finally returned to me, and wide-eyed, I looked between them, and said all that I could say.
“How?”
Thea folded her arms and shrugged one delicate shoulder.
“Magic.”
Chapter 5
The rest of the day was a blur. Berta slipped off after performing what, to my eyes, was a miracle. It took a little effort on Thea’s part, but she was able to convince me not to go running shirtless and slightly bloodied into the streets. Not that I even knew where we were.
“I promise you, you weren’t drugged,” she said. “At least not above what was necessary to help relieve the pain.”
“This is a prank. Right? It’s got to be. Who are you people even? Where am I?”
“One thing at a time, Dustin.” She gestured to the door. “Will you walk with me?” She nodded at a chair at the end of my bed, where something white was thrown over the back of the seat. It was hard to make out at first, considering the stark whiteness of the entire room to begin with. “If you’d care to make yourself decent.”
I went red at the ears, sure that I didn’t even have any reason to do so, but I dutifully shrugged on the slip of cloth. It was a loose kind of shirt, as it turned out, made from a fairly comfortable type of linen. It suited everything that was presently happening, the weird, zen-like atmosphere of the room, Thea’s otherworldly presence and sense of serenity. I smoothed down the hems of my shirt, then looked up at Thea for approval, unsure if I should voice the question at the back of my throat.
She smiled. “No, we aren’t a cult, Dustin, as much as you’d like to think that. The Lorica is an organization of men and women who oversee the workings of the arcane underground, the magic that goes on behind the scenes of everyday American life.”
I cocked my head. “So, on a national scale?”
“Yes. There are other authorities in other territories, but we mainly concern ourselves with the operation and regulation of magic in North America.”
“So like a government?”
“More of a corporation, I would say. Although we are affiliated with the American government, if that’s what you mean.”
“So they know about you?”
“To a certain extent. Only what we want them to know. We underplay our abilities, to be sure, because you know the lengths humanity will go to acquire more strength. In time you’ll see that people like us can wield power enough to rival the most terrifying weapons man has ever created.” She grimaced. “I can’t imagine the things the military would do with one of our own.”
“And that’s why you keep things secret.”
“Correct. From the government, and from the world at large. It makes things – less complex.”
/> A whole tribe of people hiding in plain sight, living in a separate layer unseen by society, unseen by anyone in the city of Valero, or California, or the world. And magic? Real, actual magic? My gaze kept flitting, like my mind was trying to settle on which of a million different questions I should ask first. When I spoke, I realized that I hadn’t even decided.
“This is a lot to take in, Thea.”
“That’s understandable. If you want to get mystical about it, we’ve got fancy terms to throw at you as well.” She chuckled. “We hide from normal humans from behind the Veil. That’s what it’s called, this covenant we all maintain to keep our powers unseen and unknown.”
I clutched my stomach, dizzy, but also queasy, like my body itself was having a tough time processing all this. “Yeah, that doesn’t really help.”
“And you, you’ve awakened,” she said. “Talents that once lay dormant within you are stirring, roused by the call of responsibility, or in your case, pain. But maybe I’m just confusing you. Maybe it’s best if I just show you.”
She gestured to the doorway again, her posture rigid, but graceful, like she had done this many times in the past. Ah, what could it hurt. I followed her lead and stepped out of the ivory room, expecting, I suppose, an even greater expanse of white.
“Welcome to the Lorica,” Thea said.
I was not prepared.
What I walked out on was a massive tableau, like standing on the mezzanine of the greatest library I had ever seen. The place was at least the size of a football field. The walls, the furniture, the banisters of the great staircase that led to the lower level, everything was finished in a rich, lacquered brown, the very wood itself pulsing with regal warmth.
Said warmth also radiated from fires that hovered in midair, burning freely and suspended from nothing. They provided the light for the interiors too, some placed strategically among chandeliers or lamps to project their illumination, but many floating freely like fireflies, or will o’the wisps. None of them smoked. I looked around, wondering how anyone could think open fires could be anything approaching a good idea considering all the paper.
