Faith in the Family, Draft 2, CH 21 (Patreon)

Bozeman, MT, January 17th

“Well,” Thomas said when Grant didn’t add anything. “You know why I have people after me. And they had those things. That woman had the glass rod, and she threw light at you. One had a shovel, and the other had a staff, kind of like yours, except—”

“It’s nothing like mine!”

Thomas was surprised at the vehemence. “Well, it’s metal and not wood, so—”

“That’s not—” Grant closed his mouth and seemed to swallow his anger. When he spoke again, it was in a calmer tone. “That isn’t what I mean.” He placed his staff on his lap. “I made this. I crafted my connection to the universe when I did. I poured my dreams and my hopes into it and…” he shook his head.

“They stole their staves; it doesn’t matter what it looked like, that’s what they are. They didn’t make anything. They’re nothing more than parasites sucking Practitioners like me dry so they can steal what the connection they made.”

“They suck the magic out of people?” Thomas surprised himself by realizing the accidental innuendo didn’t make him smile.

Grant sighed and rested his head back against the stone wall. “That was the wrong analogy to make.” He closed his eyes. “Remember when I told you how we, Practitioners, deal with the concept of the universe, its potential?”

“The spotlight, not the filters,” Thomas answered.

“That is a lot of energy. The gods, in limiting what you can do, limit the easy by which you can hurt yourself simply by using your magic.” He held up a finger, and Thomas closed his mouth. “You can still kill yourself if you push too hard, too fast, but it becomes ever more difficult the harder you push, the faster you go.” He gently ran the finger along his staff. “We don’t have that limitation. We can channel as much energy as we want and it never gets any harder. And as a result, we can burn out much easier than you can. That’s what could have happened to me as I powered the storm ever harder to fight them. If it had happened, all that would have been left is my staff. They would have taken it, handed it to whoever served their agenda the best.”

The silence stretched as Thomas thought about what Grant said, what he’d seen of the fight. “Could one of them have burned out fighting you?” he asked tentatively.

“No.” The flat answer had a sense of finality to it, but then the kangaroo sighed. “Because they steal their staves, the Chamber don’t have the investment in it, the deep connection with the universe I obtained when I crafted mine. It means that one of them can never bring the level of power I can to a fight, but it also means they don’t have to worry about burning out. It’s a powerful tool, but nothing more.” He closed his eyes. “It’s also why they ambushed me in that fight, instead of putting a bullet in my head from a quarter-mile away. I have to die while channeling all that energy. Otherwise, this is just a piece of wood to them.”

“So your staff is what they’re after.”

Grant let out an angry bark of laughter. “Oh, it’s only one of the many reasons Kingsley wants me dead.” The smile he gave Thomas wasn’t exactly pleasant. “I’ve been making a habit of getting in their way.”

Thomas gave a slow nod, the information providing context. “The good Samaritan thing. We didn’t meet by accident, did we?”

The kangaroo studied Thomas as he thought. “No. But also yes.”

“Care to clarify?”

Grant smiled. “I have a talisman, it’s what Practitioners call the magical items we make, like your armband. It’s in the truck, and it’s constantly looking for someone new to magic and in way over their heads. So no, it wasn’t luck that we met, because you happened to fit those criteria. But, it was also luck in a way, because, you shouldn’t have been. The other factions are much more structured than we are. Because of that, anyone who comes in their magic does so under controlled conditions. The Society has rituals, un top of having to be born into it, which you should have undergone before your magic activated. I don’t know what they are. So when I picked you up, it wasn’t someone from the Society I was expecting, but a new Practitioner who had no idea why he was being hunted down by someone he used to consider a… friend.”

Thomas readied himself for the answer to his next question. “What does it mean for us now that you know I’m not who you wanted to protect. Will you—”

“I knew you were Society when that rat said you were related.”

Thomas gave him an eye-roll. “Mine and Madoc’s grandmothers were sisters. So sure, we share blood, but calling us related seems a bit much, and the way he was talking, you’d think I was he brother, instead of just a frat brother. But you shouldn’t—”

“That doesn’t matter, Thomas. I didn’t abandon  you when I realized which faction you were. I’m not that heartless.” Grant fell silent, then smiled. “So, we’re going to deal with the situation you’re in right now, and right here. After that we can figure out what to do.”

“So…” Thomas smiled hopefully. “Fucking?”

Grant rolled his eyes. “Yes, but this is the last one. We need to get moving after that.”

“Don’t worry, I’m going to make this one really great.”

* * * * *

“No fucking way,” Thomas muttered, leaning against the shed. He couldn’t have seen right. He glanced around again. There was a gray van parked behind his grandfather’s SUV.  It could have been a delivery van, and that should be where his mind went as he’d seen it, or maybe one of his many girlfriend owned a van like that and she was visiting, now that Magnus’s self imposed sexual hiatus was over.

Only, what were the odds one of them owned a van the exact gray of Gilbert’s, with signs of electrical burns over it and plywood where the windows were blown out.

The kangaroo looked around the shed at it too.

“So,” Thomas said, “the town?”

Grant shook his head. “It’s too far. Them being here means we can’t go to your grandfather for help, but we still need supplies. Food, first aid kit. Some crafting material would be welcome.”

Thomas’s question was silenced as the back door of the ranch house opened and they received their confirmation of who’s van it was in the form of Olavo, followed by Felix and Limbani stepping outside. Whatever they were talking about didn’t carry over the distance.

“Can’t you blow them away like you did to the Shoveler in Lewiston?” Thomas whispered.

Grant studied their surroundings and whispered back. “How do you feel about your grandfather’s house losing its roof, or a tree going through a wall?”

Thomas looked at him in disbelief. “Like I’d rather it not happen, why?”

“This isn’t an instrument of precision.” Grant hefted his staff. “It’s more of an area of effect one.”

“The funnel just got one.”

Grant snorted. “That’s because they knew to spread far apart and we were on an open field. And he wasn’t who I was targeting. Here, trying to get them might end up with me throwing the SUV in the air, trees around, and ripping the walls off.”

“Then I don’t know that we can do anything,” Thomas said. “Because unless Limbani tells them he saw something elsewhere, I don’t see them leaving.” He thought about something. “Can you give him a vision of is elsewhere?”

Grant thought about it. “Not with what I have on me. I’d need my supplies from the pickup, but—” he pulled Thomas to the other side of the shed as his frat brothers went back in, and pointed to second story window with a light on in it. “How do you feel about committing some larceny?”

* * * * *

Thomas dropped a few feet on appearing, and landed as quietly as he could and remained still, listening. After a few seconds without anyone rushing up the stairs, yelling that he’d arrived, he looked his grand father’s bedroom.

The room was now immaculate, and unoccupied. Clearly, Thomas’s household got their messiness from the Royer side of the family

He checked over the attached bathroom. Also empty and clean.

He cracked the door open and listened to the house. Conversation came from the living room. Too faint to understand from being down the stairs and on the other side of the kitchen, but he recognized Magnus’s voice. The others would be his frat brothers, and the odds were good Thomas was the subject of the conversation.

Having confirmed he wasn’t in danger of being discovered immediately, he went through the closet. His grandfather had a surprisingly large number of winter clothing because of both visiting family, and his girlfriends.

Magnus had a surprising number of them who weren’t used to Bozeman winters, or Northern US winters period.

He pulled two of the overcoats out and laid them on the bed. Neither he nor Grant had worn winter walkabout clothing as they’d exited the pickup. At the back of the closet, he found a backpack. Thomas emptied the hunting supplies from it and took it along as he exited the room after confirming the hall was empty.

He tiptoed toward the stairs, and froze as grunts came from a partially opened door ahead of him. Once he understood what was happening to make the sounds, he moved again, peeing in to the room as he passed it.

Olavo was fucking Yating hard, a hand over his mouth turning whatever scream of ecstasy the red panda made into the grunts to go along with the capybara’s.

Thomas smiled. If only they understood how misplaced their attempt at discretion was. Manus didn’t care how loud the sex got in his house. He might even consider it a challenge to be louder than them, if one of his girlfriend was present.

Passed the door, he heard new sounds through the closed one closer to the stairs, voices. He paused and pressed his ear to it.

“Why aren’t we leaving already?” Gilbert asked plaintively.

The sigh was pure Limbani when he had to explain the obvious. “I saw us remaining here until tomorrow night.”

“But why?” this time the armadillos question was in a reasonable tone.

“Nothing in what I saw explained that.”

“Fucking Precogs,” Gilbert grumbled. “I hare the lot of you. Never a straight answer when we need one.”

“Oh really?” The monkey snickered. “You want something straight from me? How about I straight up fuck you?”

Thomas moved on. So, he and Grant had until tomorrow night before they had to worry about being pursued.

By his frat brothers at least.

He took the steps slowly, coming to a full stop as one creaked.

“Damn it Henry,” Madoc said, his voice muffled by the closed window. “Did Raphael tell you anything about this guy? I get that Limbani’s visions are always true, but you know what he looks for. He got us here and we’re staying until tomorrow night, but he didn’t see Thomas, and I can’t exactly go back inside and demand he tell me Thomas’s whereabouts without knowing something of who he is.”

Thomas stepped down unit he could see outside through the large window over the sink. Madoc was pacing on the porch, phone to his hear.

“His grandfather? Are you sure? I met his grandmother, and there didn’t seem to be a man in her life. No, the sense I got was that he died. No, Thomas never mentioned family out here. How didn’t he show up in any of the searches Raphael had done if they’re close enough Thomas would come here? No, never mind,” the rat immediately added. “That man would never consider Thomas’s mother’s family to be of interest. If it doesn’t have a dick, or isn’t popping out sons for the family, they might as well not exist. Fuck,” Madoc said tiredly, “I wish someone took over from him so we can go back to the way things used to be. Don’t tell him I said that.” Madoc chuckled after listening for a few seconds. “I know. He’s doing the best he can.” He sighed. “Balls. Okay, I’ll be as discreet as I can in my questions and maybe something about where Thomas is will fall out. I’ll call you tomorrow for an update, unless I have something to report before that.”

The rat put his phone away and reached for the door.

Fuck, Thomas had been so engrossed in listening in he’d stayed right there, in view of anyone entering. He had to hide. He considered going back up the stair, but saw the open pantry door on the other side of the kitchen. He willed himself there and moved as far back as he could. Madoc would have to walk past it, but unless he decided to grab a snack, Thomas should be fine.

He hoped.

The rat walked by and Thomas sighed in relief.

“Are you going to explain yourself, young man?” an irritated Magnus demanded.

Madoc’s answer was too soft for Thomas to make out. He stepped forward, hoping to listen in.

“Where are the cleaners?” Felix demanded and Thomas almost threw himself into th back of the pantry in surprise. Were the cleaners in here?

“Under the sink,” he grandfather answered.

“Where did he get this?” the otters whispered after a few seconds with enough awe in his voice Thomas moved until he could make him out.

Felix ran a hand on the wooden table, then crouched to look a chair over. No, he was studying them. Chouteau was what? A fan of wood furniture? The otter’s bedroom was all solid wood furniture, but he’d expected that was because they were expensive. He’d never seen him act like that around them. Not that Felix had ever allowed Thomas more than a glimpse of his room. It might be the one room in the entire frat Thomas hadn’t had sex in.

Although, now it put in perspective some of the otter’s comments about the metal and plastic dining table, or some of the modern couch in the ground floor living room.

Felix pulled himself away from the chairs and searched the cabinet under the sink. It took out a small can and a clean cloth before returning to the living room.

“I hope you don’t mind,” the otter said with what sounded like a hint of respect.

Thomas was so surprised Felix could speak without sneering to someone he wasn’t clearly better off than he was he missed the rest.

He shook himself. He wasn’t here to be amazed that Chouteau had a shred of decency in him. He needed supplies.

He filled the backpack with jerky, water bottles, the handful of old heating pads he found under a pack of pemican, which he also added. The cans of fruits he carefully placed in to keep them from knocking together.

Once the pack was full he hefted it over a shoulder and… how was he going to make it across the room with the now open door to the living room? He’d have to be quick and quiet or someone would—

What was he doing?

He had to stop thinking like the old him. He didn’t have to run across the kitchen.

He looked at the stairs.

He could will himself to the other side.

Then he willed himself to the top, then his grandfather’s bedroom door. He grabbed the bottle of lube on the bedside table, he Put an over coat on, and gathered the other. He looked out of the window at the shed, then he stood next to the kangaroo, offering him an overcoat.

“Larceny accomplished.”