Page 157 of The Pansy Paradox
“We’re already in the fissure,” Henry finishes.
“Exactly. You’ve done the hard part. No shoving or sacrifice required. He’ll attempt to complete the ritual. At least, the Botten of thirty years ago would.” Max turns to Henry in question.
Henry’s mouth is a hard line, his jaw tight. “Wait a minute.” He reaches forward before remembering are phones are useless. Instead, he shuts his eyes, deep in thought. I hold my breath, and not even Max interrupts him.
“Florence,” Henry says at last.
“Italy?” I ask. I have no idea what this has to do with anything, never mind our current situation.
His lips twitch. “If only. No. Florence, Wisconsin.”
“Wait.” Now, tendrils of memory—and possibly the Sight—start weaving a pattern. “That was my capstone exercise at the Academy.”
“Which was based on a very real mission where your Aunt Marigold vanished along with another agent, Gordon Darnelle.”
My Aunt Marigold? I contemplate that, or try to. Then, all I can do is say, “He was?—?”
“A second cousin.”
“Of course. This isn’t the first time Botten’s brought you together, is it?” Max asks, although it doesn’t sound like he needs an answer.
“No,” Henry says anyway. “He tagged me to evaluate Pansy’s class at the Academy, and then sent me to King’s End to conduct her field agent evaluation.”
“Classic.” Max is nodding, mostly to himself. “Yes, Florence was the trial run, which means he thinks he knows the outcome.”
“What was the outcome of that?” I ask. “I mean, for Botten?”
“About a year or so later,” Henry says, “Botten secured his seat on the High Council. Mind you, that should have been impossible. He never married, which suggests he never honored his betrothal. That’s a requirement for the High Council.” He sits back and stares into the middle distance. “Appointment to the High Council is supposed to be unanimous, but there was one continuous dissenting vote. Arthur Connolly devised some sort of special dispensation, and the vote went through.” Henry stares at the phones as if he’s itching to fact-check. “I’m fairly certain there was a caveat. Botten could be seated, but he could never hold the chair position himself.”
“And that dissenting vote?” Max asks, although his tone suggests he already knows.
“My father.” Henry shakes his head, the sorrow in his eyes so close to the surface. “Of course, before then, Botten had taken over the Academy and started the ranking system, Botten’s Best List.”
“Amassing his own little army,” Max adds.
“But that alone wasn’t enough,” Henry says, voice contemplative. “The High Council, though?”
“Ah.” Max nods. “That comes with privileges, doesn’t it?”
I remember my mother’s sorrow at losing her sister and then her strange panic. Phone calls late at night, when she thought I was asleep, whispered words about keeping me home, not sending me to the Academy. Who was on the other side of that conversation, and what they said? I don’t know. But I suspect it was the father of the man sitting next to me.
“Weren’t you on Botten’s Best List?” I say to Henry.
His lips twist in disgust. “Yes. Subterfuge, I suppose. I was never truly part of his inner circle.”
Not like Mortimer, I think. “It would’ve looked really strange if he’d left you off.”
Even as a cadet, Henry Darnelle was legendary. Leaving him off Botten’s Best List would be like barring the valedictorian from the National Honor Society.
I turn to my father. “What does this mean? Can he really?—?”
“Take over the world? No, it’s worse. He most likely believes he can. Even if he were willing to share the power that opening the gateway will unleash, there are nowhere near enough agents in the world, never mind in a task force, to absorb the surge.”
“He’ll die,” Henry says. “Everyone in the task force will die, and if I’m not mistaken, King’s End will cease to exist as well.”
“I see you’ve been doing your homework, Darnelle. Yes, all things being equal, that’s exactly what would happen. Unfortunately, children, things aren’t equal.”
The gazes of both men land on me. My cheeks burn. I feel deeply and irrationally self-conscious, like I’ve done something terrible but can’t say what, exactly, that terrible thing is.
