Jesus. I have truly been ignorant and blind for years. Apparently Karl has, too, because he’s just as surprised as me. “You said there are multiple colonies of Métis? How many?”
Erik’s answer is less hostile than before. “It varies on each plane, but on ours, there are six, including Anchorage. Comparatively, this is one of the larger groups; at last census, we totaled seventy-three.”
Karl’s eyes widen. “All with Magical bloodlines?”
“Yes,” Cameron answers. “But remember, a lot of the Métis might be several generations removed from their Magical forbearer.”
“But—Magicals can only produce one pregnancy,” I say. This is unreal.
“True. But Métis like Will or myself,” Erik says, “are no longer bound by such genetics. Many Métis families have multiple children in them.”
Will’s pissed. “Is everyone else kept in the dark, or was that just me?”
Cameron sighs. “Son—”
“No, I’m curious,” Will retorts. “If there are so many of these so-called colonies, and they even have a fancy name for us half-breeds, then one would assume that it’s public knowledge, at least amongst the citizens. Right?”
Erik looks at Will like he’s nothing more than an annoying toddler. “Many Métis children are not told until they’re older for the safety of the colonies.”
“Because children are blabbermouths, right?” Will asks darkly. “That would have been my first impulse. Tell everyone in Glasgow so they could come after us with pitchforks and torches. But let’s not forget I am no longer a child—or is twenty-two still considered infancy amongst you wise, elderly folk?”
I lay a hand on his arm. His sarcasm, so easily accessed when he’s in defense mode, isn’t going to help any of us right now. “People fear what they don’t understand. I know it seems hard to believe, but your parents were looking out for you.”
“Don’t do that,” he snaps. “You railed about how your parents kept you in the dark. Don’t go excusing why mine were just as guilty.”
His anger is painful to see. “It’s true I grew up knowing I was a Magical. But I also had the ability to protect myself if somebody ever tried to hurt me. Your mom and dad—they didn’t want you to get hurt.”
He clearly doesn’t believe me.
“Look. I have a friend back in Annar who is like you. A Métis. She grew up knowing what she was, surrounded by Magicals, and . . . it was hard for her. She’s struggled with self-esteem issues her whole life.” I squeeze his arm gently. “You mom and dad cared enough about you to take you out of Annar when you were little. You grew up never thinking you were any different from anybody else. That you were any less than them. That was a gift, Will. I know it’s hard to see that now, but it really was.”
His face is blank when he asks, “Is that the case now? That you think I’m less of a person because I’m only half of a Magical with no powers to show for?”
I can’t help but smile a little. “Do you think less of me, knowing what I am, what I’m capable of? After all, you’ve seen me destroy things. Some would call me a monster.”
“No.” His words are hushed. “You’re just Chloe to me.”
“And you’re just Will to me.” The corners of my lips lift higher. “Plus, Magical or not, you would have made your mom proud with the way you handled a sword and helped take down an Elder. Maybe you do have a bit of Smith in you after all.”
He kisses the back of my hand and then turns back to the rest of the group. “Fine. I’m being a bloody prat. There are obviously loads more important issues to be dealt with than me kicking my feet and fists against the floor. Shall we commence on figuring out what to do about people dying?”
“Have the Elders attacked the Métis before?” Karl asks. He’s got his phone out, typing in notes like he does at mission briefings. I love that he’s doing it, that he sees this here—these people I’ve grown to love—equally as worthy of his time as the Magicals back home.
There’s a tense silence that has Erik and Cameron debating whether or not to answer his question. It hurts to see Cameron hesitating, but I guess old habits prefer slow deaths. Finally, Erik says, “Yes. I don’t have specifics, but I think they’ve murdered a few dozen of our kind over the last ten years.”
My eyes fly to Karl’s. He’s uncharacteristically grim, and that’s saying something. Because I think we both realized something at the same time.
In their quest for vengeance, the Elders are killing more than just Magicals. They’re killing the Métis, too.
The situation just got a thousand times more serious.
“How long have you known Will was a Métis?”