Chapter 22: Reactions 2 (Helene and Jason)

(Pov Jason)

He leaned against the dancing machine, sweat beading on his brow. The sounds of game machines came from all around them, lights blinking in a myriad of colors. Chloe was leaning on the other side of the machine, laughing lightly. 

“Well damn, you two are good. You beat the high score.”Jasmine was smiling, looking at them with mild surprise.

“You know it.” Chloe ran a hand through her hair, still breathing heavily. She was the one who had driven up the duo settings high score almost single-handedly. Jason had barely managed to keep up; however, for the first time in years he had managed that. Is it just because my fiancée and girlfriend are watching?

Jason's eyebrows furrowed slightly. Did he consider Chloe his girlfriend? They hadn't talked about it, but he was fairly sure she wasn't against that. We need to talk about that at some point.

“Well, I gotta go use the bathroom before we leave. I will be back as soon as I can.” Chloe bowed theatrically.

“Good luck.” Jason said, grinning, waving at her as she walked off. 

“Good luck?” Jasmin's eyebrow rose slightly. 

“It's funny.” He shrugged. 

“Sure it is, honey.” Her voice sounded almost indulgent. She drew a breath and then hesitated, her smile falling slightly. “Jason, we have to talk.”

Jason's stomach dropped. That didn't sound good. We need to talk, was the standard “I am breaking up with you " speech. He couldn't remember doing anything that would lead to that, though. Did he do something wrong?

Jasmine's hands landed on his shoulders. “Hey Jason, it's fine. Well, it's not. But It's not a relationship talk. I am not breaking up with you or telling you to break up with anyone.” 

The tension in his shoulders eased. “Ok, sorry, I just… What is it you want to talk about?” He tried to give her a smile.

“Sorry, I should have done that better. Could you give me your phone?” 

“Sure?” He handed her his phone, and she placed both his and hers further away on one of the machines below its blaring speaker.

The room was loud, and yet she still leaned in and whispered. Her breath was hot against his ear. “We might have a problem. There is a chance, a small one, mind you, that Sophia's little adventure yesterday got noticed. It was extremely illegal. There is a chance you guys get raided. I am just a message away. If anything happens, please, please just send me a message or call, or contact me in any way. Ok?”

That was somehow worse. Were they going to arrest Sophia? Jason blinked. It wasnt like they were gonna find anything illegal, after all Jasmine had taken her book back. Maybe the magic circle; Sophia hadn't wanted to destroy it. He was fairly certain it might still be in her room.

“What's… What's the chance that happens?” He spoke quickly.

Jasmine shook her head. “I don't know, darling. But I have talked to some other members in the clan who could give us some warning if it's about to happen. But even they think it might only be a few hours. I promise I will do everything I can to protect and help you. If I have anything to say about it, no one will come away unscathed from laying their hands on either you or Sophia. But you need to promise you will call or message me the second you get even the faintest hint that something's about to happen, OK? And destroy the magic circle if your sister still has it.”

There was a fire in her eyes, and intensity in her voice that made a warmth spread through Jason's chest, a small pit forming in his stomach. He wasn't sure if that was because of the chance of getting raided and arrested or if it was over the certainty in Jasmine's voice. Jesus, Jasmine, you'd think you might kill someone over this.

He nodded. “Ok. Yeah, I'll call.” Would Jasmine let him get arrested? Was that a risk the clans were willing to accept? After all, he knew they were here; the feds supposedly didn't.

He tilted his head. “Jasmine, would you let me or Sophia get arrested? Is that something the clan would go along with?”

She gave him a small smile. “Depends on what you're being arrested for. If it's a DUI, sure. But over this, not if I can stop it, no. It's too much of a risk to the clan, and quite frankly we have our own problems with the feds. Plus you are mine, baby, and I am not letting them drag you off. Or your sister for that matter.” She winked at him. “So keep your phone charged and on you at all times. And I will look into getting some kind of emergency button, and I can send you a code word to use over the phone or text later.” 

For some reason, he couldn't quite comprehend that made something settle in his chest, a warm yet slightly uncomfortable sensation. Or… simply unfamiliar? He could probably best describe the feeling as safe in a way. He couldn't remember anyone being this intense about his safety before. Though it was probably only to protect the clan's secrecy. Yet a small, if slightly awkward, smile spread across his lips. Jason was about to speak when he heard Chloe.

“You guys ready to go?” Chloe said as she reached them.

Jason smiled weakly. “Yeah, let's head home.” 

His mind was already planning how to convince his sister that they needed to hide the magic circle properly. He was fairly certain it was just under her bed. Though he knew he couldn't convince her to destroy it. Still, it was worth a try.

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(Pov Helene Iverson)

The satellite image printouts spread across her desk showed what Cassandra had confirmed to be the farm from her visions. The barn next to the farmhouse was particularly important; after all, it was the barn the demon had focused on. However, nothing about the family that lived there fit the regular profile for someone who tried magic unlicensed. They seemed to just be farmers down on their luck. Certainly not people who could afford to buy, let alone smuggle in highly illegal texts. Though that image could change, they were still getting information, and once the larger commercial data sources were looked into, they should know more. The practitioner could also have obtained the text or knowledge by other means. Which was even more concerning,

It seemed likely that someone had broken in while the family was away and then done the ritual there to avoid being discovered. Though that was only one of many possibilities. It still left the question of why that barn. There were several others on the property that could have been used with even less risk. I guess I have no way of knowing what condition they're in, though.

KNOCK, KNOCK!

“Come in.”

The door squeaked as it swung open, revealing a young man she knew to be in his early twenties. 

“Ma'am, it's time for the senior staff meeting, and then you have the board meeting after that.” 

“Right, thank you for the reminder, James. Can you prepare the… the.” She snapped her fingers, trying to remember what it was called.

“I have prepared the briefing for the board meeting, and looked into our sources of truesight potions. I have also started writing up the documents needed should we need to requisition outside forces to deal with the situation in Montana. Though I can't finish that until you determine who.”

“Thank you, James.” She smiled at him.

Their steps echoed off the stone floor and walls as they descended the stairs towards the meeting room three floors down. The tower's walls were visible this high up where the plaster had never been added. She had insisted on the conservatory being a tower largely for symbolic reasons and to make sure the students got some much-needed exercise.

The students they took in were older and had far less developed a sense of etiquette than she would have liked. They tried to mitigate that, of course. But there were only so many social groups in America that still took such things truly seriously. And only so many with the aptitude for the training.

A student squeezed himself against the wall as they met in the stairs. The motion had the telltale awkwardness of a first year. He offered a polite greeting. One Helene returned with warmth.

Still, even that carefully selected crop needed to be trained. And for that, the mental discipline mattered. As such, the tower, which was still nearly thirty stories tall, had no elevators that students or staff could use. It had no nearby cell coverage or internet. She still had to suppress a chuckle every time some visitor or new student tried to check their messages only for it to be useless.

The door into the meeting room was heavy as she pushed it open. She held it open for James to enter before she took in the room. 

Around the table at the center of the room sat the professors of the conservatory, as well as some senior staff. It was easy to tell the difference between them. The professors were all theurgists, witches one and all, and all wore the traditional badge of office for that particular group. A wide-brimmed pointed hat. While it might resemble one you would buy for a witch costume, it was substantially better made.

“Good evening, everyone.” She got a cacophony of answers from the assembled staff

“Don't worry, we haven't started without you.” Margarete's voice sounded bored. Glancing over at where she was sitting, she saw the succubus looking at her fingernails while her tail played with the armrest of her chair. The succubus looked up and winked at James; while she couldn't see her assistant, she could see Margarete's face. And judging by the small smirk on her face, she guessed it had the desired effect.

She sat down heavily in her chair. “So first on the agenda is the pact rituals for the third years. I understand that some of you had some objections to some of the students.”

Whenever the topic of which student was ready for a proper pact negotiation came up, it always became an hours-long verbal fist fight. The professors insisted that their students were ready; the medical staff had doubts and wanted a tripled budget for a few months to handle the fallout of students who had temporary psychotic breaks from the attempt. There were always some after all. Not that anyone here blamed the students or the staff for that. Her own attempt at gaining pact magic had ended much the same.

Helene had a headache by the time the senior support staff left the room. The professors remained seated. The legal advisors entered right after the support staff left, with James locking both layers of the door behind them. That, as always, marked the start of the board's meeting.

The federal Magics Regulatory Board and the conservatory's professors were, for all intents and purposes, the same group of people. The reasons were largely historic; until 2014, the US had no theurgists. There were still fewer than 250 theurgists in America, and that was if you counted the students. Congress still didn't like that overlap, but it took nearly a decade to fully train a theurgist, and the practice simply hadn't been here that long. Though she saw no reason for that to change when there were more of them either. 

“So then we move on to the event in Montana.” Helene was playing with the long tip of her left ear. 

“We have to do sssomthing about it. It's a clear breach, and sssomeone has gotten a hand on a text they ssshouldnt have. We need to invoke clause three.” Tina said, interrupted by the hisses that were so common for lamias.

“That seems a little hasty; we need to know more before we do a raid. The ritual failed after all, and there is no sign of a second attempt. We don't even know who did it. We should waste resources on a raid until we are certain the likely target is actually there, or we might spook whoever did it.” Hilde, one of their best diviners, said while her clawed finger tapped the table. Her feather somewhat muffling the sound.

“We have cause for a raid, but we need to handle it carefully. Last time this happened, we didn't raid some random family. The optics of a dead kid if the raid goes sideways will be a political nightmare in Congress. The goals should be apprehension and securing evidence. Then we can lean on the practitioner to get to the source.” Their chief legal advisor, Joshua Smith, said while running his hand through his graying beard. There was 

Joshua was right as always; the goal was an arrest and no one would like a dead civilian on their hands. But they needed more information before any raid. There was a chance the team would need to be part of the investigation or do multiple raids. Of course they simply couldn't use the FBI; nor could any of the regular law enforcement groups be used for something like this. There were far too many disclosures and far too high a risk of something leaking. 

“James, how long until the forces we normally use are available to do a raid?”

He flipped up some pages, double-checking his notes. “The first one would be Naval Special Warfare. SEAL Team Three will have a platoon or two available as of next week. One at least and two at most.”

“Thank you, James.” She waited. “Then we investigate until next week; the farm remains under surveillance. We send in a team when the image is clearer. If we need to investigate further, we simply keep them on standby. The Pentagon can complain as much as they want to. Everyone in agreement?”

They weren't, of course, and it took nearly another half an hour before they reached consensus. They did agree on her course of action. Which meant she wouldn't be seeing her husband until tomorrow morning, even if he, like all the senior staff members and their families, lived in the conservatory; she sure as hell wouldn't wake him up when she finally got home.

She sighed. Now it was time to start informing Congress and the Supreme Court that she would be invoking Clause Three of the Twenty-Eighth Amendment and requisitioning a small force out of the military for domestic use. They wouldn't and couldn't stop her preemptively, but it sure as shit was going to lead to a political nightmare afterward. It had on the two other occasions when that clause had been invoked. They wouldn't do anything about it, though. After all, someone had to be able to stop a congress member, state politician, the president, or anyone else from making a deal with some deity in return for policy support. Only the gods knew how bad it would be for democracy if one politician had the backing of a literal god or an insurgent group could raise an army of animated corpses.