A Bad First Interview

I nearly jumped out of my skin, all fatigue forgotten. Beck yelped, although more out of surprise than any real concern, and immediately unlocked the door, preparing to open it.

"Are you crazy?" I hissed, trying not to be heard, but she just rolled her eyes and opened the door, hopping out into the night. I immediately followed her, levering myself over the driver's seat and flipping through my book for the teleporting phrase, in case I needed to make a fast escape. I couldn't believe I was already looking at the book as a utility, but in a panic situation you use what you've got.

The sight that greeted me was as bizarre as sights get. Three silent figures stood in a staggered line, watching me clamber out of the car, and in between two of them was Beck, looking irritated. Two men and one woman, all tall and slim, all dressed in dark, loose-fitting clothes, and all wearing grim expressions, looked at me like I was something they'd scrape off their knee-high boots. All three carried a book like mine, either in their hands, or in the woman's case, on a sort of chain around her shoulder.

And all three were branded on the right hand with chrome glyphs, different from mine, but only slightly.

I didn't know what to say, so I let the mouth take over for me as usual. "Hiya, fellas."

"Trick..." Beck muttered, in a warning tone of voice, but the branded woman stepped forward and looked me up and down, taking in my tattered appearance. Her eyes lingered on my right hand, branded with silver and clutching the book.

"So you're the boy we've heard so much about." Her voice was incredible. Soft, silken, and gentle, but somehow blatantly dangerous. Here was a person who could get mean. "How deeply ironic."

"Who're you calling an iron?"

Beck buried her face in her hands, clearly embarrassed by me, but one of the men grinned. "He's not dumb, at least."

The woman glanced at her companion and rolled her eyes. "That isn't the point. He's one of us now, and he shouldn't be. I mean, look at him. This kid is a walking billboard for post- secondary education."

"Hey!"

She rounded on me. "No, you 'hey' yourself. You have no idea how badly you've fucked up, kid."

"So tell me." I probably shouldn't have been obstinate with what appeared to be a troupe of mercenaries, but you remember what I said about panic situations. "Everyone's screaming about what a fuckup I am, okay, tell me what I've done. Explain the situation."

"Told you he wasn't dumb," the big man said, earning another glare. "Alright, listen up, son. We're from an... organization, you could say, called the Conclave."

"Dolan!" the woman hissed, and Beck flinched, but he continued almost immediately. "Basically we're a behind-the-scenes peacekeeping group. You know the Illuminati? That's basically what we do, except without the political manipulation. We select the absolute best and brightest individuals we can find and offer them a chance to really make a difference in the world." 

I stared at Beck, finally coming close to understanding. Physically fit, brilliant, hardworking and responsible... wonderful and perfect enough to earn the notice of this "organization"... it made sense. "So you give people these books, they get marked up, and then they're in the club."

The woman scowled. "It's not a club, idiot. Do you have any idea how fragile our civilization is? This is an every-day, every-hour, life and death commitment. And all you've done by stealing our book is reduce our effective strength. For all we know, you've contributed to the collapse of society."

"I didn't steal anything! Beck gave this book to me! ... by accident." I finished lamely. "And anyway, what's the big deal? Just give a book to Beck if she wants it so badly. I don't want this or need it." I held up my hand, reflecting moonlight. "Get this damned thing off me, and we can all just move on with our lives."

Finally, the third guy spoke up, shaking his head. "It doesn't come off."

"What."

"It's permanent. Just like your book probably has your name on the front page. Once you're recognized by the Conclave, once you're branded, you're in for life. The power is a part of you, now."

I looked at my hand, studying the spirals and slashes of the glyph, incredibly complex. Suddenly, with a sensation that was starting to become way too familiar, I felt meaning attached to the hypnotic sigil. It's me.

It was my name, somehow, but it was also more than that. The spirals and whorls told my story, insofar as I had any story to tell. My name, my age, the people I knew, the events of my life, everything of significance about me was expressed by that two inch tangle of silver skin. I had no idea what it said... but I knew. Does that make any sense?

The taller man, the one called Dolan, smiled at me. "You've noticed."

"Yeah..." I said, still gazing at the brand, incredulous. 

For a long moment, we all stood around, wondering how to proceed. Finally, I thought of something. "What do you mean when you say 'power'? I've... teleported home a couple of times. Can... we... do more than that?"

Four faces looked at me, all apprehensive. Finally, Dolan spoke up cautiously. "A lot more." After another pause, during which I waited, anxious, he sighed. "More and more of your Text will start to make sense to you every day. It'll probably be complete... a year from now. Maybe less. Soon, you'll read the Text as though it were English."

He walked over to me, opening his book, or his Text, I guess, and began to point to different scrawls. "This will make you invisible and silent." A few more pages. "This will release you from gravity for a few moments." He turned another few pages and paused, at last continuing in a somber tone. "These... are for combat. If you're ever forced to defend yourself." 

"Do you have to... defend yourself a lot?"

The woman spoke up before Dolan could. "That all depends. Because we have absolutely no intention of taking you out in the field. You're going to go home, keep your brand covered, and put your Text away until you're dead and someone else can use it."

The quiet man shook his head again. "Come on, Lee. You know he can't do that. Could you?"

"That's different! I'm Conclave, I'm out there risking my a*s on a daily basis! What is this mongrel going to do?"

"Hey!" I shouted, surprisingly shutting everyone up. "That's enough of that! The insults are one thing, I know I look like a hobo right now, but you don't have to assume I'm gonna be useless! I'm perfectly capable of doing a job, d****t!"

I couldn't stop myself from glancing at Beck to see what she thought of my little speech. Maybe she'd be impressed. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her eyebrows raised in disbelief. Well. 

I'd show her.

"When do I start?"

It didn't have the effect I was hoping for. Beck immediately threw her hands up, interrupting all three Conclave people, who were making equally angry gestures. "Wait just a minute! What about me? I thought the whole point of you people coming here was that I was going to join, it's all I've been working towards for almost a year, and now that Trick's branded I'm what, a lost cause?"

"You've known about this for a year?" I asked, but of course I was ignored. The woman, Lee, looked at Beck, and spoke in an utterly different tone, even going so far as to smile.

"You're not a lost cause, honey. You're without a doubt one of our best prospects right now. As soon as I can get my hands on another Text, you're in. We've just got to deal with your-" and the angry snarl was back, "- aggressively useless boyfriend."

Beck nodded, apparently satisfied, and made a point of not looking at me. "By the way," she muttered to Lee, "He's not my boyfriend. We broke up this morning."

"Good call. All right, listen up, kid," she growled, eyeing me like a misbehaving dog, "You keep your head down for a few days. We have to report back to headquarters and figure out just what the hell to do with you. Personally, I hope they'll let me kill you so we can give that Text to someone competent."

"Peacemakers, huh?"

"Shut up. You're so far out of your depth it's ridiculous. And believe me," she whispered, moving close to my face, "You may think it's cool and fun that you're a wizard now, but you've got a whole world of reality to swallow. I know your type. We have rules. We have structure. We have assignments that matter. You couldn't possibly pull your weight." She leaned back and opened her book, flipping pages and glancing down every second or so. "You fucked yourself real hard when you opened that book. Sleep on that."

Her eyes flashed and she intoned a series of words, syllables that echoed and twisted through the night air, and Beck and I flinched when the trio of Conclave members vanished in a flash of violet light. I spun to face Beck at the same time she wheeled to face me.

"You could have told me you were involved with-"

"You've wrecked an AWESOME opportunity for me-"

"-f*****g insane, look at my hand, look at it!"

"-already put my notice in, what am I supposed to-"

"Gah!"

"Ugh!"

And we turned away from each other, standing almost back-to-back. I crossed my arms for a minute, until I realized how hard it was to hold the book like that. I could hear her breathing hard. She smelled faintly like her house, a subtle mix of flowers and lemon furniture polish.

"Beck?"

"What?"

"... I'm really sorry about screwing this up for you. I didn't know."

She didn't say anything for a few moments. Then, "Would you like a ride home?"

"I think I'm good," I said, gesturing towards my Text. "Thank you, though."

She turned around and looked at me for a moment, eyes resting on my shining brand. Then she gave me a brief hug. I think she was trying to hide her face. After a moment, she whispered "I miss you already."

"So don't miss me. I love you. I have for years."

"I love you too, Trick. But I can't. I shouldn't." She sighed against me. Her breath was warm. "I'm gonna go. Are you sure you'll be okay?"

"Yeah." No.

"Okay."

She climbed into her car, shutting the door before I could say anything. She kept her face in shadow as she drove away from me. And then I was alone in the parking lot of Tommy's.

I sighed and opened my book, already noticing the flicker of meaning on several more pages. For once in my life, I ignored the impulse to be curious, and muttered the words to take me home the second I found them. I only distantly noticed the insanity of in-between, and I'd left a lamp on in my room so I wouldn't fall over again. I'd barely arrived when I let myself fall into bed, miserably tired, and I was asleep almost before I forgot the words.

*

Author's Note

I really want some feedback on this chapter.

Reviews

[UponATyme]

Okay, first of all, I love the idea. The name "Conclave" (with key) has religious connection to it though, is that what you intended? Also, I think you really need to take a step back and really think about the tone you want to give these people, because it's important. Right now, they don't really sound like a secret society who take it upon themselves to keep the peace of the world. Now all of this is entirely my opinion, but I think there needs to be a more serious, somber tone to their speech. They don't quite sound like the aged, experienced individuals I would have expeceted them to be. Does that make any sense?

[Vanessa]

Haha i like the term "aggressively useless"...this was a good chapter, I like the way you revealed everything about the book. I feel like it always sounds better coming from someone who actually knows the truth rather than having Trick find the answer on google or something haha. And you got to introduce some new characters and make things even more interesting.

[UponATyme]

Ahhhh, well, in that case, they came across the way you wanted them to!

[EarthExile]

Their demeanor is by design. The Conclave, in the context of this story, is meant to be a metaphor for misdirected organization, like most colleges, churches, or gangs. The organization probably set out with power and purpose, but like most exclusive groups, it eventually decayed in spirit to the point where it's more about who's allowed in, versus what the group's really about.

Look at it this way: this is a group who exists to preserve balance and justice. How much of that do you see in the world? Clearly their purpose is not being fulfilled. They're just recruiting the 'most qualified' people and congratulating themselves on being so great, while their mission falls apart.

I'm glad they don't come across as Warrior Monk Priests, because I don't want them to. They're more like an especially powerful frat.