empty thrones (ch3)

[lunecat16]

Title: empty thrones
Rating: Mature
Major Warnings: Body horror, graphic violence, familial abuse, other warnings included in fic

When Reid had visited the Dark Summer Court, he’d come across an old and decrepit general. The Fae blocked his path, stating that he and his regiment had once been the region’s only line of defense against a vile force, whose assaults they had endured daily. Over time, his regiment had perished, leaving only him. Then the very force he was fighting against died off. The general hadn’t known the person Reid was looking for–the reason Reid was visiting the realm in the first place–but he had been determined to stop his progress and treat him as a new threat to vanquish.

Much had gone unspoken in that encounter. The general had conjured glamoured facsimiles of his soldiers from the nearby terrain and commanded them in battle. He was skilled, but he seemed like he might have been more skilled fighting something monstrous instead of a single practitioner. His armor was rusted and his body, when Reid got a look at it, seemed nearly spent. With the Fae’s companions and purpose for existing long gone, he may have been desperate to avoid slipping into Winter, even if it meant dying. Later on Reid found that only a few residents in the fortified town nearby knew of the Fae’s name and deeds, further validating his speculation.

Reid had killed him, sparing the general little thought besides irritation that he was in the way, and plundered his corpse. It was customary to take trophies from the defeated, and the item in best condition had been the tattered war banner the general wielded. The banner proved to be a decent source of replenishable Dark Summer glamour, but not quite valuable enough to be shipped back to the family vaults, so Reid had held onto it.

Now the banner hung on his wall at the far end of his room. He opened the rectangular glass case surrounding it–both a protective measure and an aesthetic framing–and carefully reached inside. The banner had been worn down by ages of wear and tear, but it still held a faint, dark red color and bore the remains of a pitch black, triangular symbol in the center, though half of that symbol was lost to a hole in the middle. At the frayed edges the banner was stained by ash, dust, and dried blood.

Reid carefully tugged at one of those frayed edges. The old cloth around that edge didn’t so much tear as it simply fell apart at the gesture, leaving him with a sizable pinch of glamour. The banner would restore itself in time, but it was far too easy to take too large of a piece, or create another hole that would slow down its recovery even further.

He walked over to the washroom, keeping a firm grip on the dark substance, which seemed to take on different textures and colors depending on the light and angle. He didn’t pay the shifting any mind–doing so would just encourage the glamour to take on a set form, and he needed it to be malleable. He balled his hand up into a fist, squeezing the glamour and completely obscuring it from sight, and worked to undo the bandages over his face with his free hand once he reached the washroom mirror.

He usually tried not to look at his face. Despite his best efforts, however, he’d still end up staring for one moment too long, getting lost in a sea of marred flesh, or his single eye surrounded by red. He preferred to let his vision glaze over, or to focus on a spot next to his face on the mirror.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t do that today.

Just use glamour, Hadley had said. Reid couldn’t help but imagine her flippant words with a much more grating, exaggerated tone than her actual voice. Easy for her to say, when her interactions with fae magic came down to using the occasional trinket looted off of Summer warriors.

Using glamour was an art, and a very difficult art at that. Glamour sought attention as fantasy and validation as reality at the same time. To focus on glamour was to empower it, but too much attention invited scrutiny, and that invited the glamour to break, usually breaking the user with it. On the other hand, ignoring glamour and treating it as something real could make it real, often subsuming the user’s identity in the process.

Reid ached for a world where he could simply use Spring’s glamour to hide his injuries, and create a face he could recognize when he looked in the mirror–

But that was too much of a fantasy. It would disrupt the delicate balance he needed to maintain. Dark Summer, on the other hand, was the most visceral of the Faerie Courts, drawing from outside influences as well as tales of the bold, bloody, and grotesque. Erasing his wounds was too unrealistic, but eye-catching scars? That was much more achievable.

Reid massaged the glamour, and the substance took on a moist, almost fleshy texture. He carefully placed his hands over his forehead, feeling a sharp pain as the glamour touched raw flesh. He worked slowly, keeping a consistent image in his mind as he spread the glamour over his face, tracing the paths of his wounds. All he needed to do was make an outline. The glamour filled the spaces in-between, becoming discolored flesh. He left the lower half of his face mostly bereft of glamour–he didn’t want to accidentally wipe off his whole disguise while he ate. The rest was rubbed into a fresh set of bandages, drawing out the wraps and turning them into a covering for the lower half of his face and a black leather eyepatch.

The results didn’t look good. Asymmetric. Mottled. Ugly. The scars felt tight when he moved his face, and even blinking was awkward with a scarred eyelid. His one saving grace was that he’d be covering most of his face up tonight. The eyepatch and facial mask were snug and fit perfectly, leaving only his eye, the bridge of his nose, and his forehead visible.

He stood back, taking stock of his whole appearance in the mirror. He didn’t need to wear bandages over most of his body anymore. Instead, he had a pair of thin black gloves to slip on to hide his hands, and a white turtleneck to cover his neck. A black blazer brought the whole outfit together.

It wasn’t a good fit for a night out with friends. It wasn’t even a good fit for a formal occasion, given the summer weather.

His hair was another problem. Visiting a hairdresser was out of the question, so it had grown out slightly, and styling it was a nightmare. No matter what he tried it looked and felt wrong in the end, always a little unruly if he squinted, or always feeling like blood or abyss grime or something was left in there.

Was it leftover Abyssal taint, or his own paranoia? He didn’t know, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

He just had to remember that as horrible as he looked by his own–his family’s standards–he probably looked fine enough to the average Innocent. Serviceable, and serviceable was all he needed for tonight.

Reid straightened his blazer with a quick tug, ran a comb through his hair a couple more times, and forced himself away from the mirror before more imperfections emerged.

 

—

Hadley was waiting outside the western exit leading from the senior wing, leaning against the wall next to the door. Her attire hadn’t changed much–her shirt was nicer and her pants weren’t ripped, but she was still wearing jeans and a blouse.

“Kept the scars?” she asked, lifting herself up from the wall and turning towards him.

“If I got rid of them, you’d be waiting here for a few more hours, at least.”

“Reid Musser, caring about making others wait for him?” Hadley let out a mock gasp. “Say it isn’t so.”

Hadley was frustrating, but it wasn’t as if he could tell her off and put her in her place like most other practitioners. She was Grayson’s eldest daughter, and probably the student with the closest status to what he once had. Even before Kennet, he preferred to simply not interact with her rather than risk damaging his father’s relations with the Hennigars.

Now, however, he couldn’t avoid her.

He scoffed. “Or, I look better if I arrive on time.”

“You’re not wrong,” Hadley said, “I was prepared to go easy on you for being late, since, you know–”

She vaguely gestured at him. He sighed.

“I know.”

“But you’re making the others look like chumps.”

“What was that about chumps?” A familiar voice called out from the doorway, and Chase stepped out, followed shortly after by Tanner.

Both of them were dressed more suitably for the occasion in comparison to Hadley, who wasn’t even wearing a dress. Tanner looked good in a light blue polo and dark blue slacks, very crisp and very Belanger. Chase wore a fairly standard navy blazer and white collared shirt, though the shirt was a little bit rumpled from what he could see, in need of a good ironing.

“You two, that’s what it’s about,” Hadley said, giving the augurs a lazy, mean grin, one that vaguely reminded Reid of a crocodile or some other predatory animal.

Chase opened his mouth, preparing to reply, but Tanner interrupted him first. “Don’t bother. Are we good to go?”

“Should be.” Hadley gave them a dismissive reply, and then started to walk away, not bothering to wait for the others to follow.

Chase turned his attention towards Reid, and his eyes flashed with momentary Sight. “Nice glamour,” he remarked, walking past him to catch up with Hadley. Tanner followed after Chase, adding to his token formality with an awkward thumbs up and a short nod.

The hesitance from their conversation the other day didn’t seem present here. The two augurs looked more at ease talking to him, though Reid doubted that had anything to do with them actually being at ease. They just had more time to prepare for the dinner outing and put on a polite veneer. Still, he appreciated the change in atmosphere, even if it was fake.

They took a shortcut to the parking lot, cutting through the well-trimmed grass of the campus field. Normally there would be a host of other students milling about after the afternoon class, but apart from a couple of younger students he could vaguely see on the other side of campus, they were the only ones around. It was strange, but maybe they were the strange ones, heading outside during uncertain and dangerous times rather than staying in a safe and protected building.

“Is anyone else coming?” Reid asked.

“No, just the augurs. Eloise was considering it, but she backed out yesterday. Something about wanting to be with her fiance, I think.” Hadley shrugged.

Reid gave her a quiet nod. He decided not to mention the encounter he’d had with her the other day, and the stare he’d directed at her tattoo for far too long. Maybe she'd backed out once she knew Hadley would invite him. It would be a sensible choice.

“Whose car are we taking?” Tanner spoke up as they neared the lot. His gaze drifted to two blue cars parked next to each other, close to the main building–his and Wye’s.

Hadley smirked, pulling a set of car keys out of her bag. “Mine.”

A loud beep emerged from a sleek, dark red sports car, one that looked like it belonged on a racetrack rather than a public road.

“Oh no.”

“Oh no?” Reid asked, furrowing his brow as he looked at Tanner.

“I’ve heard Hadley has two modes for driving–going fast, or going faster,” Chase said, his face looking just a bit paler.

“Yeah, it’s how you get anywhere near civilization in a reasonable time. I’ve got some charms and wards inlaid to keep the cops off our tail. You’ll be fine.”

“Seems prudent, for your line of work,” Reid said, approaching the passenger door of the car. The vehicle looked well taken care of, and he wondered if the Hennigars covered the frequent repairs the car probably needed, or if this was just another model in a long line of cars that would get trashed by Witch Hunters or whatever else Hadley fought.

“It is, it’s great,” Hadley replied with a smug look on her face, before turning her head and barking at the others. “Come on, you wusses! Pussies!”

Tanner and Chase exchanged a resigned look with each other, and then walked forward, deciding to accept whatever they thought their fates were.

The car was comfortable, as expected from a high-end model. Tanner and Chase got into the backseat, and there were a few moments of shifting around as they adjusted their seats–Reid giving himself more leg room, and Chase letting himself recline a little farther back in his seat. From a quick glance back, Tanner looked mildly cramped sitting behind him, but Reid didn’t particularly care enough to give him more room.

…Should he care? Was this the sort of thing John was talking about, where he’d be remembered as a stain upon other people’s memories for his actions?

After a moment’s consideration, he shifted his seat slightly forward. Tanner had more room, but he didn’t react to the change–no relief, no grateful glance.

Underneath his mask, Reid frowned, and he focused on looking in front of him. The faint engine hum of the vehicle grew louder as Hadley started to drive. She kept a fairly normal speed on the road leading out of the school property, and for a moment Reid wondered if the augurs were just getting worked up about false rumors.

Then Hadley hit the main road, and floored it.

Reid barely managed to keep himself steady, so only his insides felt like they lurched forward instead of his whole body. It still wasn’t a pleasant feeling, however. His eye focused on the speedometer and watched it climb up towards the speed limit, and then above it without any sign of stopping.

Hadley lowered her window, letting the air rush into the car. “Feels good to get out of there, doesn’t it?”

“Sure,” Tanner gave a shaky reply.

“The kids stepped up in today’s class, but it still felt way too dreary.”

Reid looked at Hadley, confused. “Today’s class? Were you–”

“We’re short-staffed without half our guest teachers, so they’re making us pick up some of the slack.” Chase shrugged, the frustration in his voice clear.

“It’s not all bad. I got to have fun with some combat drills–I even got the gainsaid kids involved.”

“So that’s why I heard screaming from the training fields,” Tanner said.

“Mine and theirs,” Hadley replied with a satisfied look on her face. “They got the hang of it pretty quick once I started tossing fire around–sorry, stoking the ‘Flames of War’.”

She rolled her eyes at the formal title, and lifted one hand off the steering wheel for momentary air quotes.

“Ugh, going to hate having to say that more when I’m home. Anyway, you should have seen the looks on their faces, Sol especially–kid looked like he pissed his pants.”

Hadley let out a laugh, and Chase added his own slight snickering. Reid couldn’t bring himself to laugh with them.

He would have been able to at least force out a laugh before Kennet.

“How many weeks do you think we have left, anyway?” Tanner asked, sounding eager to change the subject.

“Hell if I know. You guys are the augurs, aren’t you?” Hadley shot back.

“I’m not wasting a reading on this shit,” Tanner said.

“And it could lock in a shitty future, like you make your reading and it just says ‘school’s out in three days, fuck you’,” Chase added.

“I assume the call for a new headmaster didn’t go well,” Reid spoke up.

Tanner shook his head. “Wye made the call to Maurice Crowe. He didn’t tell us much, but it sounded like a pretty solid no.”

“I bet the guy’s bitter Ray picked Musser over him before. On top of three dead headmasters in one summer, it’s a fucking awful deal,” Hadley remarked.

Despite the car’s speed, Hadley was a good driver. Most of the turns were smooth, and their lane seemed free of other cars. However, even she couldn’t account for every hazard, especially when the roads often fell into disrepair, this far away from civilization. The car jostled all of them as it hit a small pothole. He heard Tanner startle, swearing under his breath as he fell back into his seat.

Reid barely felt anything, and that fact bothered him more than the pothole did. Before, he would have at least had to put in effort to look unaffected. Then he could at least decide to drop the facade and stop acting like a Musser. He didn’t have a choice now, he wasn’t even a Musser either.

He didn’t know what he was.

He needed to stop thinking about this.

“I would guess a month, with a few more weeks at most, until the school fully shuts down. It depends on how quickly families pull their children out,” he said, deciding to entertain Tanner’s question. He knew the augur hadn’t expected a serious answer, but he needed to do something to keep his thoughts from going down darker paths.

The others didn’t seem to realize someone would answer Tanner’s question seriously either, including Tanner, and Reid was very aware of the slight delay in their responses.

“Not much of a reason to, is there?” Tanner asked. “If they’re gainsaid, they’re safe on campus, and there’s always the library to study from.”

Chase let out a laugh. “It’s not about the school, Tanner. It’s about making sure the new guest teacher isn’t from a rival family or something.”

“Mhm. Politics and control. Less students means less guest teachers to draw on, so Ray has to find new ones, and with no headmaster, parents don’t know who to expect,” Hadley said.

“Right,” Tanner replied, sighing. “At least we’ll have most of the school to ourselves when it closes.”

“Oh yeah, you don’t need to worry about going home. Lucky. How about you, Chase?”

Chase shrugged. “Dunno. I think I can stay with the circle. I hope I can stay with the circle.”

“So you two are staying, and Reid…” Hadley glanced over at him, with a knowing look in her eyes. “The funeral?”

Right. The funeral.

“In three days. Don’t remind me,” he said, letting some of his exhaustion come through in his response.

Despite what he thought was obvious reluctance to continue the topic, the others kept talking.

Hadley, surprisingly, gave him a sympathetic smile. “I’ll be there too, you know. My father’s making most of his branch attend.”

Because Grayson Hennigar was a friend of his father’s. It was only natural. That meant Anthem Tedd and his children were also bound to attend, if he could bring himself to control his girls for once. Then there were close family allies, like the Knightons.

Like Kaye, who he’d be seeing far too soon.

“One of ours might try and make it,” Chase added. “Whitts, I mean. Not sure about the circle.”

“You’d think a funeral would be the one place families don’t try and network in,” Tanner frowned.

“Less networking, more reputation,” Hadley said, making a quick ‘so-so’ gesture with her hand before placing it back on the wheel. “It’s good form to show up and show respect, and if you don’t people talk.”

This conversation wasn’t his, even if it was about his father’s funeral. It didn’t involve him. He felt like he was on the periphery, if even that–an observer. The others continued talking, and he tuned out their banal remarks, only able to focus on the crowd of negative feelings in the back of his mind getting louder by the moment.

No claim, no control.

Chase’s voice broke away from the conversation. “Hey Reid, what–”

“That’s enough.”

He spoke, putting a threatening edge into his voice as he glared at Chase. Maybe a little too threatening, as the augur’s face went pale, and the others fell silent.

Tanner seemed to have a moment of realization, looking away and looking almost guilty. “Right, sorry.”

“Talk about something–anything–else,” Reid continued, growing increasingly uncomfortable with the silence he caused. For once, he wanted to think that the Abyss seeped into his words, giving them a little more impact. Otherwise, he couldn’t stop thinking of how much he sounded like his father, using the same words he would use to command attention.

The next few seconds were filled with the sound of the car speeding down the road. It blew right past a police car, but no sirens went off and no vehicle pursued them.

“Anything else, huh?” Hadley asked. “Well, I wanted to talk about this before we got to the restaurant anyway, so might as well say it.”

Reid tried to raise an eyebrow, but the glamoured scarring was too tight, so he just stared at Hadley instead.

“We’ve all heard what happened by now. And I’ve bitched about you a lot, but you’re still…a classmate? A Hennigar ally? Whatever. Point is, if you want me to go after the guys who fucked you up, give me a signal.”

“...You mean the witch hunters,” Reid said, after running through a far too long list of things that had fucked him up in Kennet. The witch hunters weren’t really one of those things, but they were the only ones Hadley would care about.

“Yeah. Tell me their names, and I can find them,” Hadley nodded, giving him a dangerous-looking smile. “They’re Lighthouse goons, right?”

There it was. Reid had started to wonder why she was acting oddly civil with him, but the eagerness–almost excitement–in her eyes as she asked explained everything. Hadley was a hunter, and retribution was the exact sort of excuse she could use to go after her prey without serious karmic consequence.

“Wait, wait–” Chase spoke up, sounding hurried as he cut Hadley off. “Wasn’t it the red thing? The perimeter?”

The smile disappeared from Hadley’s face in an instant, replaced by confusion and irritation. “What red thing?”

“It was…fuck, something plicate, I think Wye said? Cut off his practice.”

“I didn’t hear about a red thing. I thought the witch hunters were the ones that got to him?”

“What?” Reid muttered, confused, maybe just as confused as the others were right now.

“I mean, cut off the practice, and that leaves you defenseless against them, right?” Chase elaborated.

What?

Hadley laughed. “If you’re fucking weak, that is. I don’t think Reid was defenseless, the Lighthouse’s just–”

“What are you two on about?” Reid interrupted.

Chase and Hadley stopped.

“Who said it was the witch hunters?”

Tanner shrugged. “No one, really. Wye wasn’t looking in, so no detailed report, but if something cuts off the practice and there’s witch hunters around, and someone gets hurt…the conclusion’s obvious, isn’t it?”

Reid sighed, lifting his hand to rub at his temple in hopes that it would clear his mind, because even if he didn’t have–maybe couldn’t have–a headache, in other circumstances this conversation might have actually brought one on. He stopped before he could touch skin, remembering the risk of accidentally rubbing off glamour.

It would be so nice to let them believe the witch hunters were responsible. Maybe he shouldn’t have spoken up and gotten them to question their own narratives, but eventually he’d be asked to confirm one fact or another, and the whole farce would have fallen apart regardless.

May as well spill out the disgraceful truth now.

“It wasn’t the witch hunters. When I lost control of my implements, my familiars–”

“Oh, fuck,” Chase breathed out, stark realization creeping into his expression.

“I should have known better,” Reid continued, sinking into the back of his seat. “Drowne was only loyal because of the bindings tying him to me. Without that?”

“Blackhorne?” Tanner asked.

“Indisposed and unwilling to make the effort to help me.”

“Man,” Hadley muttered, “I liked him.”

“I liked him too,” Reid said, his voice quiet.

He let his words sink in, and with none of the others speaking up, he continued. “The witch hunters just stood by and watched Drowne take his revenge.”

He didn’t feel the need to add any more details. They didn’t need to know about how he caved, like a coward, and released everything he had. He didn’t need to think about how none of those things were even his in the first place.

“Fucking scum,” Hadley said, letting out a dark laugh. “They were supposed to have a deal with you guys, but I guess–”

Hadley’s eyes went wide, and she slammed on the brakes. The car’s tires audibly screeched as it slowed down, and its passengers were flung forward by the sudden change in acceleration.

“God–Spirits–Fuck!” Hadley swore between quick, panicked breaths. The car came to a stop just in front of a red traffic light–the first one they’d run into since they’d left the school.

“I was wondering,” Tanner started, still a little shaken, “if we were just getting lucky with traffic.”

“No, not luck,” Hadley shook her head, now having collected herself. “I told you I have charms. One asks a little favor from War, wards this stuff off.”

“Extending the pillar to more general conflicts, and asking to avoid them,” Reid elaborated for her. He’d seen similar effects, from creating arenas to engraving talismans.

Hadley frowned, giving him an annoyed look. “Don’t explain my own practice for me, Reid? I’m trying to tolerate you tonight, don’t make it difficult. Anyway, yeah, works like that. War likes me plenty, so the universe listens and greases the wheels. We just happen to be in a low traffic lane, or the lights just happen to be green, up to a point. Some things are unavoidable, though.”

“Like that red light,” Tanner said.

“Like that red light.”

Tanner looked like he wanted to ask something else, but stayed quiet, letting the conversation die down as the traffic light turned green and let the car speed up again.

Reid waited for the other practitioners to speak up, offering a story, a quaint observation, or anything else besides the hum of the car’s engine, but none did. Weeks ago he would have easily been able to fill the silence, boasting about another accomplishment of his or offering his own wisdom. He couldn’t think of anything like that now. He didn’t accomplish anything of value in Kennet, and he couldn’t speak about the contest either. The past stories he could remember felt so far away, so meaningless.

There was a small stretch of traffic ahead of them–a few fast cars in the distance and in adjacent lanes–which forced Hadley to slow down until she was closer to ten miles above the speed limit. Her fingers impatiently tapped the steering wheel, until the silence seemed to become intolerable.

“I’m putting on some music,” she said. “Reid, grab my phone for me? Playlists should be right there, just pick ‘On the Road’ or ‘Faves’ or something.”

She briefly glanced down at the cupholder where her phone was sitting and displaying a map of the road. He took off a glove and began to navigate to where she kept her music, opening up a library with album covers and artist names he didn’t recognize, mostly women’s names. He selected the Road playlist, and frowned as the speakers started to let out electronic, poppy beats, with a touch of a dark edge to the music to sound ‘dangerous’.

He looked out the window and tried to ignore the noise, but the autotuned vocals weren’t helping.

As the first song ended, he heard Chase’s voice of protest from the backseat. “Okay, can we listen to something else? Anything else?”

“You’re the only one complaining, Chase–” Hadley started.

“It is pretty awful,” Reid said, immediately after Hadley spoke.

“--At the time. Fine, is there anyone else in the car with bad taste?”

“I’m fine with whatever,” Tanner said.

“That’s not a no, technically.”

“Not a yes, either.”

“Well, if my music’s that intolerable for you boys, what are your alternatives?” Hadley asked.

“I said I’m fine with whatever,” Tanner said, shrugging, “why not see what’s on the radio?”

Hadley’s face scrunched up in disgust at the thought, and Reid felt very much the same way, but too much of his face was either damaged or glamoured with tight scars to really express that feeling.

“Yeah, no,” she said.

“If you let me connect my phone, I can show you some way better stuff,” Chase said, holding up his device.

“Way better, huh?” Hadley asked, raising an eyebrow. “Such as?”

“Deftones? Slipknot?” Chase listed a couple of names, with a smug, self-assured air about him–the familiar look of someone who thought he was better for having knowledge and sharing it with the unenlightened.

Hadley thought for a second, and then shook her head. “Haven’t heard of them. Sure, give ‘em a go.”

Reid could see Tanner’s eyes widen as the man suppressed a laugh, and Chase shot him a glare in response while connecting his phone.

Reid wasn’t sure what he was expecting when Chase played the music, but it certainly wasn’t the solid wall of noise that hit him. What did they call this kind of rock music–metal? It must have been one of those, because it sounded like the same sort of cacophony of guitars and drums he’d heard America Tedd blare out from her phone on occasion. Hadley looked almost outright offended by the music, going between focusing on the road and giving the car radio a displeased look.

The song reached a quiet moment, and it almost sounded like normal music, until the singer broke out into half-song, half-screaming his throat out raw as the noise surged again. He couldn’t help but think of his own voice, at that–a voice that couldn’t even switch between pleasant and grating.

He had been a good singer, once. It wasn’t something he enjoyed–it was just a skill that helped with oration, and something to impress girls, but it was still a talent he didn’t have anymore.

Reid almost didn’t notice that Hadley had turned the volume down and started arguing with Chase.

“I asked for music, Chase, not whatever the fuck that is.”

“What? It’s music! Better than your stuff, with all its lame ‘bad girl’ shit.”

“Maybe get your ears looked at? Last time I checked, screaming and banging on metal like an ape isn’t music.”

Reid tuned them out and took out his own phone, scrolling through his music library, looking for something to spark his interest. Nothing did. He didn’t want to listen to any of the albums or playlists he saw. The classical music was there because his father had called it refined music. There were a couple of movie scores, also things his father listened to. One time his father had music on in the car, it had been something from the British Invasion period, so he’d searched out other songs in that rough genre and style.

“You have any alternatives, Reid?” Hadley asked, raising her voice and breaking away from the other conversation.

He shook his head. “No. Everything on here is from my father, or something he’d listen to.”

“Don’t want to break out into tears while we’re around?” She teased.

“No, of course not,” Reid snapped back. “It’s just–”

How did he put this?

“I’m realizing that just about all of my taste in music was his, and not my own,” he said. It wasn’t just music taste, of course, but that wasn’t something he felt like admitting to Hadley.

Hadley frowned, raising her eyebrow. “You sound like you think that’s a bad thing.”

“Isn’t it?” He asked, defensiveness creeping into his hoarse voice despite himself.

Hadley took a moment to process what he was saying, and her eyes widened in disbelief. “Wait–You’re saying it’s bad to have your father’s music taste? Reid Musser, of House Musser, Mr. ‘My Father Is Beyond Compare And I’ll Hurt You If You Insult The Musser Name’–”

“I get it, Hadley,” he said, interrupting her. “Yes, that’s what I was saying.”

A laugh, almost a cackle, escaped her throat. “Oh, wow. You finally got an ounce of sense knocked into your thick head.”

Reid glared at her.

“This is great,” she said, grinning and focusing her gaze back on the road.

“Weren’t we going to listen to some music?”

Reid looked at the back seat through the car mirror. Tanner, the one who asked the question, looked uncomfortable.

“Right, right,” Hadley muttered. She leaned back in her seat and sighed. “Want to just put on the radio? We could keep arguing, and I don’t want to listen to the radio, but I don’t feel like kicking Chase out of the car today.”

“Oh, just for today?” Chase scoffed.

“All in favor of finding something tolerable?” Hadley asked, ignoring him.

“Sure,” Tanner said, shrugging.

Chase sighed. “Sure, fuck it.”

Reid slowly nodded, and Hadley took that as a cue to switch the audio channel, quickly flicking through the options.

“New Wave’s decent enough. Works?” Hadley asked.

No one objected, though no one looked thrilled either. It was good music, but inoffensive. Everyone liked the popular songs in the genre, from his experience, but they weren’t anyone’s first pick if they could listen to their own music either.

For the most part, Reid was relieved that he didn’t have to look at his phone for any longer. He’d already started thinking of how Kaye’s message was still in his inbox, able to be reached with a couple of taps. He still hadn’t replied to her. Instead he looked out the window, watching the road pass them by as the conversation died down again.

His attention drifted to his face. The glamoured scars were still tight, and he could feel an itch growing at his brow. He ignored it–trying to scratch at it would probably cause the glamour to peel back in a bloody mess. Or, if he thought there was a blemish or imperfection in the glamour, it might meet those expectations with something small and barely perceivable, slowly getting larger until he was forced to pay attention to it.

Eventually, the itching feeling fell away, indistinguishable from the pain and discomfort he felt in every waking moment. It would become another omnipresent sensation to cloud his mind and ruin his mood. Not that his mood could be ruined any further, at this rate.

He almost didn’t notice Hadley’s voice addressing him, like an obnoxious verbal poke.

“Hey, do it again.”

“Do what again?” he asked, turning his head to look at her.

“Say you don’t worship your father. Say he sucked, or something like that.”

“No.”

“Come on, Reid, have a little fun,” Hadley replied, rolling her eyes.

“I’m not in much of a state to have fun,” he muttered.

“But you still came along with us, didn’t you?”

He couldn’t deny that. He sighed, letting his lack of a reply speak for itself.

“You know, what I think you need,” Hadley said, reaching over with one arm to give him a rough pat on the shoulder, “is to down a few shots. That will loosen you up.”

“Hadley, the wheel–” Chase spoke up.

“I’ve got it, calm the fuck down.”

“I’ve made a habit of maintaining integrity while out with friends, Hadley,” Reid said, moving his body away from Hadley’s hand, “and that includes staying sober and clear-headed.”

She gave him a light shake before letting go and settling the hand back on the steering wheel, and Reid could see the augurs in the backseat relax.

“Let’s be honest–you don’t have much integrity to lose now. Having a drink seems like the least of your problems.” Hadley was smiling, but there was a certain bite to her words that hit Reid, leaving him stunned and silent.

She was right. Integrity was something he'd upheld as a Musser, and that wasn’t who he was, now. His volition had kept him sane in the Abyss, but maybe, for a night out with friends, he could consider another option–an option that wouldn’t leave him feeling terribly lonely, as Hadley and his friends drank to their hearts’ content.

“...I’ll consider it.”

Hadley grinned, but a distressed voice spoke up from the backseat.

“Wait, if Reid’s not the one driving back–”

“That’ll be you, Chase,” Hadley replied.

“Come on, really?” Chase groaned.

“Aren’t you seventeen? You’re not even legal.”

“Tanner and Reid aren’t legal either,” Chase said, frowning.

“The average drinking age around the world is eighteen,” Reid said, “and that’s typically when a boy is considered a young man.”

“Okay, but I don’t think Ontario law cares about that,” Tanner said, sounding a little incredulous.

“Yeah, yeah, you guys are old enough that I don’t care,” Hadley said, sounding irritated. “But I’m getting drunk and I want to get Reid plastered, so you two have to fight it out yourselves.”

“Plastered?” Reid looked at Hadley in disbelief.

He could hear Chase and Tanner whispering and turned to look at them, focusing on their conversation instead of the unhinged woman next to him.

“--I’m serious, I don’t want to drive back at night,” Tanner said.

Chase sighed. “Alright. How are we going to do this?”

“Rock paper scissors?”

“Works.”

Each augur held out their closed fist, and as they counted down, their eyes were swallowed up by their Sights. Tanner’s eyes were blank white voids fuzzing with the slightest bit of noise, like an old, empty film reel. Chase’s eyes were filled with a fractal web of connections, almost kaleidoscopic. They were still for a few seconds, then Tanner’s hand twitched and Chase immediately threw out scissors.

“Rock,” Tanner said, smirking.

“Fuck. I saw the thread–”

“And I saw the future.”

Chase sat back in his seat, crossing his arms in annoyance, while Tanner resumed looking out the window.

Such casual expenditures of personal power, all for something so meaningless. It was too petty and light-hearted for Reid to see it as a helpful move for either augur. It made him feel–

He didn’t know how it made him feel. He didn’t like it, but he didn’t want them to stop. He didn’t enjoy it, but somehow, he wanted to join in. Even if that was impossible.

Either way, it was too late to ask about their little game without looking awkward or desperate, so his gaze went to the window instead. A Modern English song drifted from the radio, providing much-needed background noise. Another hour passed by quietly, punctuated by occasional small talk. Chase pointed out an adult store with a snicker while the others politely smiled and nodded along, and Hadley almost made Tanner throw up with a sudden and sharp right turn, but things had settled into a quiet lull, and for the most part, Reid’s focus was elsewhere.

He thought of the pain he felt–pain that came in ebbs and flows, sometimes making his face burn and filling him with an urge to rip off the glamour and everything else he had covering his wounds. He tried to distract himself, to address other matters, but those matters were equally uncomfortable. Thoughts of family led to the funeral, which led to his father, or to Kaye. Thoughts of his friends led to picking apart the conversations they’d had in the past, thinking of the mistakes he’d made by prioritizing his family over all else.

He couldn’t escape the sinking feeling that he’d fuck up this dinner trip, no matter what he did.

Their drive into Timmins went without incident–the biggest change was Hadley slowing the car down due to traffic. No locals approached or caused them trouble either. They likely knew their place in the hierarchy. There was no Lordship here, which meant no greater authority outsiders would be forced to check in with. Instead, there was the simple fact that any single student in this car could defeat them–

No. That wasn’t right. He'd used to be capable of such feats, but not anymore. Not as he was now, with nothing to his name.

Now that he thought of it, Chase and Tanner wouldn’t be able to win without excessive preparation either, which only left Hadley as the threatening one in the vehicle.

The metaphor was falling apart, but the general idea stood–locals didn’t want to risk challenging a Blue Heron student.

Hadley pulled into a parking lot next to the restaurant, and the car finally stopped.

“We’re here, boys,” she said. She stepped out of the car and rose to her full height, and then rose further, raising her hands above her head in a full-body stretch.

Reid and the others followed soon after. He didn’t stretch, and he didn’t need to–he didn’t feel the typical stiffness in his back and legs that came with a long car ride. He suspected the Abyss hardened him against those minor irritations.

The restaurant building was slightly apart from other nearby stores. The white-painted walls with a crude stained-glass mural of ocean waves didn’t look very modern or sophisticated, reminding him more of a beachhouse than a fine dining restaurant. He didn’t mind, however–plenty of ‘fine dining’ establishments had made him retch, and he’d had some pleasant surprises in unusual shacks during his world travels. The inside looked populated as well, which was a good sign.

“Connection blocker’s ready,” Tanner spoke up, holding a blank card containing a nearly complete diagram.

“Connection blocker?” Reid asked.

Tanner frowned. “You didn’t hear? It’s to keep people from staring or asking questions about you.”

Reid furrowed his brow. He couldn’t remember a conversation like that.

“When did you talk about it?” He asked.

“A little before getting into Timmins,” Tanner said, with an expression that looked equally confused, “I asked Chase to draw some up, he bitched about it because he has to drive back, so…”

Tanner trailed off, looking at Reid expectantly as if waiting for him to have that moment of realization, that ‘ah yes, that’ reply that would be in line with the Reid he knew.

Reid didn’t have that moment of realization. He hadn't heard Tanner at that time. He'd been too busy trying to ignore a flare-up of pain and the darker thoughts that came with it.

“Oh. I tuned it out,” he said, unable to prevent the reply from sounding stilted.

“Ah.”

Tanner shifted his posture and looked down at the connection blocker.

“It’s a good idea, can I–” Reid began to reach his hand out for the card.

“Yeah, sure,” Tanner said, almost a little too quickly as he handed the connection blocker over.

Reid trusted Tanner, but he scanned the diagram anyway for signs of errors. The outline resembled a standard blocker, very much like something he’d find in a textbook, but filled out and tweaked with specific embellishments. There was an inscription for warding off curious eyes, along with symbols Reid had seen used for ‘Innocents’ in a couple of advanced classes at the school. It was good work, very neat for something scribbled in the car on short notice. He looked for the open point left in the diagram, took out a pen from his blazer, and began to fill it in.

Tanner noticed and nervously spoke up. “I can complete that for you, you don’t have to use your Self when–”

Reid finished and looked up at Tanner, glaring. “If I can go on this trip to have dinner, I can power a simple diagram, Tanner.”

He knew the tone in Tanner’s voice. His friend might have been concerned to a small degree, but this wasn’t looking out for his well-being. This was a casual power-play, and an implication that Tanner was much stronger than him right now. The spirits would take notice if he accepted the offer.

The blocker wasn’t even that big of a deal, anyway–it was a small drain, one that he knew could get worse if he tried more practices at the same time, but was manageable for now.

“Suit yourself,” Tanner said, holding his hands up in mock surrender and backing off.

“Are we done? No more last-minute bullshit?” Hadley asked, looking over the two of them. Then, not bothering to wait for a reply, she continued. “Okay, we’re done, let’s go.”

They walked up to the restaurant and stepped inside.

Reid’s gaze was immediately drawn to the modest selection of awards that lined one wall of the waiting area. He was familiar with all of the accolades–the few times he’d gone out to eat with his father, they only picked restaurants that had a wealth of awards, from Michelin stars to more regional seals of approval.

This place fell short of his father’s standards, but it wasn’t as if there was anything better unless they wanted to drive all the way into Quebec.

There were other things in the waiting area, like a newspaper clipping talking about the restaurant and an older picture of the building but–His eye just had to go to the trophies first, didn’t it? He had to consider the Musser standard before anything else, when he wasn’t even–

“--table for four?”

“Yes, that’s us.”

The waitress had raised her voice slightly when speaking to Hadley, and that was enough to draw Reid’s attention towards the conversation. He could see the woman’s eyes scan the group, registering him only for a moment until looking back at Hadley.

She noticed him, but didn’t really see him. The connection blocker was working as it should.

“And you requested one of the tables in the back room?”

“Yes ma’am,” Hadley said, smiling sweetly at the waitress. The sharp edge in her voice was gone. She seemed like a perfectly normal young woman, which somehow felt more offputting than her usual demeanor.

The waitress nodded, and urged them to come along as she picked up four menus and a laminated piece of paper that was probably for the evening’s specials. She led them through the dining area, past tables covered in dark blue tablecloth and, if occupied, plates of food. It didn’t seem like a very busy night, with only half the tables occupied, but maybe this was a busy night for Timmins.

Near the back of the restaurant there was a room separated from the main dining area by an open door, containing a long dining table and a few smaller tables. It was the sort of room people would reserve for parties or business meetings, where they could have a little more privacy. The waitress placed the menus down on one of the smaller tables.

“Would you like to order drinks now, or do you want to look through the menu first?” The woman asked, as if the answer weren’t obvious.

Then again, regulars might know what to order right off the bat. Maybe he was being uncharitable.

“We’d like to look at the menu first,” Hadley said, giving her a polite smile.

The waitress left, though Reid noticed Chase’s eyes lingering on her as she turned a corner and went into a different part of the restaurant. He decided not to comment on his younger friend’s behavior, and looked down at the menu. The options were what he expected from a fairly nice seafood restaurant, though he didn’t exactly want anything listed.

He wasn’t hungry. He wouldn’t ever be hungry. Eating was painful, and he couldn’t help but think of how much an appetizer would hurt before he thought of how it might taste.

“Shrimp cocktail’s a good appetizer, let’s share one of those,” Hadley said, lowering her menu.

“I thought you’d go for something meatier, like the crab cakes or the platter,” Tanner said, looking faintly amused.

Hadley gave him a small smile. “Please Tanner, I’m a lady. A lady lets the men order the meaty stuff, and the men politely share their portions when asked.”

“Oh hell no,” Chase said, “I’m not letting you mooch off my calamari if I can help it.”

“I’m just getting a salad.”

“Lobster bisque,” Reid added, noticing Hadley starting to turn towards him expectantly.

She frowned. “You guys disappoint me.”

The waitress returned shortly after Hadley’s remark, almost as if the universe had signalled to her that they were ready to order appetizers, and drinks along with them. It occurred to Reid that he hadn’t put much thought into what kind of drink he’d be ordering. He looked down at the beverage list to see if there were any familiar or reputable drinks available.

“Absolutely,” Hadley replied, “I’ll have one ‘Summer Sunset’.”

“The whiskey sour?” Tanner said, phrasing his order closer to a question than a statement.

Reid frowned beneath his mask. He knew Tanner would order a cocktail, but he thought Hadley might want something a little more refined. Nothing on the menu looked that attractive either.

“Just water for me,” Chase said, looking just a little bit pained.

The waitress looked over at Reid. “Anything for you, um–”

Her brow furrowed as she focused her gaze, passing over his face as she settled on looking down at his hands and the menu he was holding. Reid felt a faint tug from his connection blocker as her attention was deflected. Just a minute strain, with no risk of the diagram failing, but a strain nonetheless.

“Whiskey on the rocks,” he said, the words coming out after a momentary pause.

The waitress walked away, and Reid was left to ponder just why he’d made that choice. There were other simple drinks, but that one came to mind because–

Because while staying in Minneapolis he’d been offered a glass by some allies of the Knighton’s. He’d turned it down then, but maybe he could ‘experience the world’ now, as Wye had put it.

“Hey, uh, just a thought,” Tanner spoke up, “what if someone else sits down at the table next to us? Or in this room? Do we have a plan for that?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Hadley said, waving off Tanner’s concern, “I asked uncle Cade and a couple friends to help me out. I got a reservation for four people, and they got the others. If more people signed on, Cade would cancel his and I’d ask if I could upgrade mine.”

“You actually wanted to make this a big deal,” Chase said in disbelief.

“I did, but honestly, shouldn’t have expected much,” Hadley scoffed, “besides Eloise and Ulysse, would we even want the others here?”

“I assume Wye was too busy,” Reid said.

“I didn’t even bother. He’s not a student, he’s busy, and I’d want to crack someone’s skull open if this turned into a night of listening to Belanger circle banter, which it would have with the three of them.”

Chase smirked. “Jealous?”

“Fuck you,” Hadley shot back, “maybe I should have–Oh God, even I can’t say it.”

“Should have?”

“Imagine if I invited Nicolette,” Hadley said, suppressing a laugh.

“Christ, I can picture her bitching about your driving already,” Chase replied, equally amused, “like, ‘you stopped too fast and now my neck hurts, I have a migraine, oh nooo’.”

Chase pitched up his voice in a mock, whiny falsetto, which only caused Hadley to continue snickering. Tanner looked somewhat guilty, but he was holding back laughter as well. Reid, however, couldn’t bring himself to laugh. His mind went to Lauren, and how fragile she was. A far different situation from Nicolette’s, but close enough to make him feel uncomfortable.

“You and Tanner weren’t much better. You guys almost looked like you’d seen Death.”

“It’s not like Nico would have come along anyway,” Tanner pointed out.

“Yeah, she’s a stuck-up prick. Let’s see, who else…” Hadley began to make a tally with her hands, “Liz was busy, Amine obviously said no, Brax just got out of jail, I tried to invite that Host girl, Brie, but she turned me down. I’m still bummed out about that.”

“Zed probably told her we’re a bad crowd.”

“Yeah,” Hadley sighed, “he wouldn’t be wrong. I wanted to learn more about her practice. Eating anything and hosting a whole Ritual Incarnate? She’s got potential. But I guess she and Zed are too ‘good for us’.”

For once, Hadley seemed to look genuine in her disappointment. She gave up on the tally and lifted her glass of water, tilting it from side to side and sloshing the ice cubes about, staring at it as if in thought. Then she took a small sip.

Reid hadn’t ever seen her this pensive. A small part of him couldn’t help but feel almost angry at the fact–he knew that if she stopped holding up appearances, it was because she didn’t respect anyone at the table enough to do so.

“Did Estrella turn you down too?” Tanner asked, and his question seemed to get Hadley to perk up again.

“Oh, her? I didn’t even ask her,” she said with a laugh.

“Really?”

“She doesn’t like me, and she’s Winter-adjacent. I could see her answer before I even asked the question.”

“Would you really want her glaring at you every time your elbows didn’t touch the table, or some stupid shit like that?” Chase added.

Tanner rolled his eyes. “Come on, she’s not that bad. We ended up talking a few times during the Bristow affair, and we still chat every now and then. She’s pretty chill, no pun intended.”

Now that got Reid to raise an eyebrow.

“Estrella? Chill?” He asked, incredulous. “How did you manage that?”

“We just talked,” Tanner shrugged, “about practice, about life, about Fate–Winter’s pretty close to it, given how inevitable it is.”

Reid stared at him, entirely unconvinced.

“I also send her videos sometimes. You know, the ones with cute arctic animals or penguins bobbing around?”

“...I don’t,” Reid said, slowly shaking his head. He didn’t get it–he didn’t get any of this. How did Tanner, of all people, manage to keep the Vanderwerf girl’s attention with the most inane-sounding methods?

“Well, she didn’t either–too busy to use social media. I guess I turned into her supplier,” Tanner chuckled.

“I tried to court her, around a year ago,” Reid said, his voice touched with bitterness, “if I knew it was that simple to gain her favor, perhaps things would have gone very differently.”

The table was silent, as the others seemed to be at a loss for what to say. There was a muffled crunch as Hadley bit into one of the ice cubes in her water, and Reid turned to look at her, shocked at her poor table manners.

“Yeah, uh, this isn’t about courting,” Tanner finally spoke up, “so I’m not sure–”

The waitress returned at that moment, sparing Tanner the elaboration, and sparing Reid the pain of having the awkward silence from going on any longer. He watched as she set down the drinks and refilled their glasses of water, leaving only with a quick statement that their appetizers would be out soon.

Reid stared at his whiskey. A miniscule, shitty excuse for a rebellion, or a step forward into existing as someone who wasn’t a Musser, but it still counted in his eyes–eye, rather.

“Shall we toast?” Hadley asked, with a tone that didn’t sound much like a question.

“Let’s,” Reid said, holding up his glass.

The others followed his lead, with Hadley lifting up an orange-red cocktail, Tanner lifting up his sour, and Chase lifting up his glass of water with an air of resignation.

“A toast to the Blue Heron, may it stay open past this week,” Hadley started, raising her voice slightly, “and a toast to us, for surviving that disaster of a summer.”

They brought their glasses together with a gentle clink, and everyone took a sip of their drinks. Everyone except for Reid, who had almost forgotten he was wearing a facial mask, only remembering just before he pressed the glass against it.

While the others smiled and chatted, he turned away before they could notice him. He lowered the mask and brought the glass to his tattered lips.

One small sip, for the taste, and a larger one shortly after, because it was a good enough taste. The coolness from the ice helped offset some of the stinging pain.

“You okay, Reid?” He heard Tanner ask.

Fuck.

“I’m–”

He slipped the mask back on and turned around. The others gave him curious looks.

He was the odd one out again. He couldn’t say he was fine, or okay, by any measure.

“The whiskey is good,” he settled on.

He hoped it stayed that way.