Page 14 of Cerulean Truth
“I know, I checked. The incident wasn't traceable,” he said, looking directly at me without blinking.
My throat was drying up faster than puddles in a drought. I jumped up from the couch and started walking up and down the room.
“I'm sorry, Stephen, but I'm not following you. There is no such thing as untraceable translation.Our magic is as traceable in the Human World as blood is for humans; it's in our DNA. There's no way what you're telling me is right,” I concluded firmly but cautiously, not wanting to sound disbelieving, which I definitely was.
He nodded yet again.
“I know all this,” he answered impatiently, “but a few days ago, while I was in the Human World, I saw her crossing the street. I saw her observing a car in slow motion, ready to hit her, which probably would've killed her if it did, and I watched her jump over the car and fly back to the street?—”
“Maybe she was just lucky,” I interrupted.
“And while she did, her jump was carrying a dark red haze,” he finished.
I stared him down in silence. What he was spewing was downright unbelievable. My gaze bore into him as the gravity of his story started to sink in... A dark red haze in the Human World indicated a hefty dose of unbridled, raw power. Whatever that meant, it should have been traceable.
"Are you telling me," I growled, my voice dripping with menace, "there's a maga in the Human World, who’s been sitting on dormant powers for over twenty something years, and now that they've surfaced, we can't track her because she has untraceable translation?" My mind raced, struggling to grasp the shit he was dumping on me.
"I don't know whether her powers were dormant or simply untraceable all these years, but yeah, that's the gist of it," he answered, unwavering.
"So what? Her translation is untraceable in the Human World, but visible?" I demanded.
"That's how it looks," he confirmed.
I sank into my couch staring at him in disbelief. "We have to report her immediately!" I practically yelled at him. "She could hurt someone... or worse, kill someone! Or herself. Fuck, she must be terrified." I sprang back to my feet, ready to raise the alarm, but Stephen grabbed me, pulling me back.
"I'm not finished," he said firmly.
"What more could there possibly be?"
Stephen took a deep breath. "She doesn't know about it yet."
I blinked, stunned into silence once again.
"What?" I asked, my voice surprisingly calm, a tone I barely recognized as my own.
"I tried to talk to her, and I think I got her to realize something was up, but she ran out on me after our conversation and I’m not so sure she believed me,” he sighed.
Yup. That’s worse.
“And you don’t want to report this?” I hissed.
"No," he said firmly. "I want you to come with me and talk to her again." He practically ordered me, but I shook my head in absolute refusal before he could finish his sentence.
“No way, Stephen, that’s a recipe for disaster. I struggle enough with emotions and all that human shit as it is, not to mention I have no social skills whatsoever. I’d probably end up confusing or scaring her even more,” I declared with unwavering conviction.
“James, you’re the only one who can,” he insisted. “You’re uniquely qualified considering your own background and you’rebeing groomed as Leader. This falls right under your jurisdiction so to speak. Or at least it will in the near future.”
I shook my head again. “No, if I go behind the Council’s back on this, there won’t be any Leadership in my future, Stephen. I don’t know how you can even ask this of me. And you’re not helping her by doing this on your own either, you know. She’s in as much danger as her surroundings are.”
Stephen cocked a brow. “I've never known you as a rule follower, James. You're choosing an odd time to change a lifelong habit of breaking rules,” he remarked dryly.
“I kind of have to if I’m the one implementing them,” I said through my teeth.
Stephen leaned back into the chair and smiled humorlessly while eyeing me. I suppressed a grunt, knowing all too well what was about to follow and so did he. This was the part where Stephen would try to convince me to do something I didn’t want to do. As he had done many times before. And we both knew I was going to do exactly what he wanted. As I had done many times before.
After only forty-five fucking minutes—which was a lot faster than I cared to admit—I conceded, of course, and agreed to talk to this new maga of his without informing anyone, all the while risking everything I had worked for in the last twenty-four years.
“So, what did you tell her exactly?” I queried, defeated.
