I certainly can sympathize. My head roars with a dull ache that seems to be present far too often lately. I root around in my bag for some ibuprofen.
Etienne sets a tray with an ornate white teapot and three cups down on the table, not bothering to shove his friend’s shoes aside. It’s a rare Elvin tea he treats us with, one that’s tart and sweet at the same time. I can’t help but wonder if this goodness is considered a drug on his plane, as I’ll crave it for hours after consuming it. “Important stuff, hurricanes.”
“I’m not quibbling with that,” Mac concedes. “I’m just saying, did it really necessitate two hours of arguing?”
Etienne grins and drops onto the sofa next to me. “The Cyclones certainly felt it did.”
I’m with Mac—I’m over hurricane talk. “I want to ask you guys something.”
“Uh-oh,” Mac says, waggling his eyebrows at Etienne. “Nothing good can ever come of a girl wanting to ask questions.”
I reach across the table and swat at his boots. He laughs and finally moves them to the floor. And then, to my surprise, Alex Himura strolls into Etienne’s office.
“So, I was wondering—” He stops and stares at me. “Chloe! What are you doing here?”
“You two know each other?” Etienne asks, a slender eyebrow arched high.
Alex gives him a quick rundown on our past, which makes Etienne clap his hands, murmur something about the joy of serendipitous coincidences that leaves Mac rolling his eyes, and eventually usher Alex onto the couch next to me. “You and I can talk business later,” the Elf tells Alex. “Right now, Chloe was about to ask us an important question.”
It takes me a moment to remember what we’d been talking about before one of my oldest friends strolled into this office. “What do you guys know about Jens Belladonna?”
My question takes everyone by surprise. Alex is the first to recover, rattling off information like a good Intellectual. “Jens Belladonna, an Elf from the Ranguér region, is a Tech. Born in—”
I cut him off right away. “I don’t need his bio. I want to know why he would . . .” I force the accusation out. “Why he thinks I’m a murderer.”
Mac nearly chokes on the sip of tea he’d conveniently taken in an effort not to answer my question right away. Etienne gets up to pound his friend on the back. “Well,” he murmurs, drawing the word out as long as he can, “that’s a complicated story.”
I simply raise my eyebrows and wait.
Etienne shoves Mac over and sits down across from me. “The truth?”
Why do people always ask me that? What do they think I’m going to say? No, please lie to me. I like being in the dark. “Obviously.”
He toys with his teacup before sighing loudly through his nose. “Chloe, as I’m sure you’re well aware, there are always bad seeds out there. In the Magical community, they stick out like sore thumbs because we are so insular and small. Belladonna reasoned your guilt on the fact that there have been Creators in the past with exceedingly foul reputations. One was a very dark soul who found the Destroyer aspect of her craft preferable to any other. Take for example, Atlantis, on your plane,” he says, tapping his fingers against the china. “It was her task to destroy the civilization, and while most Creators would’ve been troubled, she delighted in it. She was on the ground, taking lives, before she finally erased the continent. It was an embarrassment to the Council, because while Atlantis had been scheduled for extinction, no joy should have been derived from loss of life.”
This isn’t at all what I expected. Abject horror must show on my face.
“She let a few people escape, just for sport, she said. That’s how there are still legends on your plane.” Etienne sips his tea. “There was another Creator, the very definition of vindictive and nasty. Those who went against him, or voted against him in session, paid steep prices. Many Council members disappeared, but never any proof one way or another that it was the Creator’s doing. But suspicions? Absolutely. People were terrified of him. There came a time where no one went against him. The Council was a fearful place during his tenure.”
There is no hint of charm or good-naturedness on Mac’s face now. “My mother used to scare me with stories about him as a child. He’s like a Magical Boogeyman. Make the wrong choices and Benedict Forgestream will find you.”
An under-the-breath chuckle escapes Etienne. “How his mother must have regretted bestowing that name on such an abomination.”
“So.” I scratch the back of my neck just to get the hairs to go back down. “These other Creators. They’re well known?”
“Aren’t all monsters in society?” Etienne asks. And then, “I am surprised to learn you do not know of them.”
As I am, when I really oughtn’t to be. Like my parents ever told me this sort of stuff.