The New Magic - The Revelation of Jonah McAllister - Landon Wark (bill gates best books TXT) 📗

he had for the work Jonah McAllister had entrusted to him and the passion that they had shared when all of this had begun.

Lennie had seemed bright and full of promise at first, but as time had passed it had become clear that Lennie would never be anything other than someone who repeated the spells of others. The idea that Lennie didn't understand exactly why Tom was so intent on pushing forward had been simmering beneath the surface of Tom's mind for some time.

But he couldn't tell him because... Well, because then he wouldn't be the kind of person Lennie wanted to be with. Same as with everyone else.

"Can you at least blow off that Aggy girl tomorrow? There's a film I wanna see."

"Are you kidding?" Tom ran a hand through his thinning hair. "There's real, actual goddamn magic in the world. I'm getting in on the ground floor and you want to see celebrity ass?" Tom sat up a little.

"I want to spend some time together, Tom. You blow me off for these Adepts every night an—"

"They're means to an end, love. As soon as I get what I need we can cut 'em loose. But right now, they're important. And Aggy, more so."

Lennie grumbled and proceeded to the bathroom while Tom lay, staring at the ceiling and listened to the loud urination for a moment or two before rolling over onto his pillow and shutting his eyes. This was the last little bit of shit that would complete the pile. How the hell could anyone want to pull him away from this? For a week? For a day? For an hour? What the bloody hell was wrong with this man? In all the five hells how could anyone who knew him, who allegedly loved him, want to derail his plans like this?

"Christ."

A Council of Acolytes

The meeting place that Tom Nightshade had selected was not what Aegera would have thought it would be. A fairly nondescript Western-based fast food place in an area far enough out of the urban core that it would not be monitored with any permanent measures (at least not for the present), but well trafficked enough that it was expecting customers late at night.

As she reached for the door handle she let out a sigh into the chilled night air. Little whirls of semi-visible vapours started to form around her face. She missed the less hectic pace of the small farmhouse. Going over a list of people she might like to recruit was far easier than setting up shop in some gathering spot and scoping out strangers. And, of course, the people here were a little less docile. She paused a moment, wondering why that was. For as long as she could remember teachers had drilled it into her that her country had been born of rebellion; throwing off the yoke of oppressive rule. Odd that none of them had thought about doing what the Adepts had done. None of their lives were much better than those of the Initiates here when they were recruited.

She brushed aside the thought and pulled open the door. The ringing of the bell startled her a little as it caused the young woman guarding the bank of registers at the front to glance at her and then away. Bored. Maybe a good Initiate at some point, but there was business to attend to first.

Tom was sitting in one of the dimly lit booths towards the back. His seat was just out of the field of a poorly placed window panel. She could be invisible to the outside if she sat next to him, but there was no chance of that happening. She sat down across from him.

He was wearing his usual dark eyeliner with matching hair and nail colour—changed with magic—and if she squinted hard enough she thought that his features were looking a little more thin than they had been the last time she had seen him.

"'Sup?" his chin jutted out briefly as if he were acknowledging a schoolmate in the corridor of a mall.

Bristling, Aegera took a seat, sparing a paranoid glance out of the corner of her eye through the window to the dim street outside. Anyone looking inside might mistake her for a character in a famous painting.

"We need a battle plan," she sighed.

"Maybe summon up some enthusiasm, Aggy. Doesn't quite have that third act of the movie ring to it." Tom brushed at the edge of the window with his index finger.

Aegera glared at him, unwilling to allow him the pleasure of an outburst for the nickname he had come up with for her.

"Christ. You look awful," he continued. "No sleep for you then?"

"You can sleep with the Adepts out there murdering people?"

"Like a bubbling lipped infant. Let me ask you a question. Big J, he's responsible for—" he waved his hand in her general direction. "This whole vanilla milkshake. Why didn't you have him do something about the bags you get under your eyes?"

Aegera felt her glare involuntarily narrow.

"Sorry," Tom rested his head against the wall in a surprising act of genuine apology. "I, uh, I'm just used to making personal stuff as messy as possible. Less of it that way, ya know?"

"Are-are you trying to be friendly, Tom?"

"Well, it occurs to me that we both need to be on top of our game here and... whatever you're dealing with is obviously weighing pretty hard on you, so—" he waved his hands. "Give it this way. Give it to Uncle Nightshade. I workshopped that with Uncle Tom, but it just felt wrong."

Aegera rolled her eyes. "Christ, Tom."

"Do you regret it?"

"What?"

"The vanilla milkshake thing."

She snorted. "Milkshake is right. I... We're really doing this? I feel like we don't have this kind of relationship."

"We've discussed recruit meetings for weeks and we can't get