Wildfire: A Hidden Legacy Novel

The arena of trials lay in front of me, a cavernous room with a clear space two hundred feet long and one hundred feet wide at its center, ringed by rows and rows of seats. Bern, Catalina, Arabella, and I stood at its edge. Midway down, a podium was placed to the side, like a referee’s chair. The Keeper of Records stood at it. To the right and left of him, three chairs waited on each side. Six people sat in them, the Primes who served as the arbiters of the trials. One of them was Sylvester Green, the current head of the Assembly. Two seats down from him sat Lenora Jordan, the Harris County District Attorney. She looked surprisingly serene, not peaceful, but imperturbable, as if nothing in this world could get a rise out of her right now. Between the arbiters, flanking the podium, our two witnesses stood, Rogan on one side and Linus Duncan on the other. “You will do fine,” Rogan had told me before walking out there.

I touched the Tear through my T-shirt. I was still wearing it.

My mother, Grandma Frida, and Leon sat on the opposite side in the chairs reserved for friends and family. We had opted for the sealed trials, which meant no audience except for family, and our entire family wouldn’t miss it for the world. Everyone was present, including Grandma Frida, who had a huge smile on her face and a bandage on her arm.

While Lenora’s people had sorted out the arrests of Sturm and his personnel, and first responders had pulled Grandma Frida from the rubble of the wall, Bern had broken the cypher on Olivia’s files. It detailed the entirety of what she knew about the conspiracy: names, details, crimes committed in the name of the cause. We knew everything except for the identity of Caesar. That remained a secret.

Just before the trials, Rogan and I made a deal: we would turn over the information on the conspiracy to Lenora if she put the weight of Houston behind Arabella’s registration. If my sister registered as a Prime, Houston would defend her against federal authorities. Lenora didn’t like it, but she agreed to do it.

Grandmother Victoria’s name was among those listed in Olivia’s files. I had already warned her and I stood by what I said. The files were turned over to Lenora intact and unedited.

It was now all up to the four of us.

“I can’t do this,” Catalina whispered next to me. She took a step back. “I can’t.”

I hugged her and told her the same thing Rogan had told me. “You will do fine.”

“Let us begin,” the Keeper said into a microphone. “The Office of Records calls Nevada Frida Baylor. Present yourself and be tested.”

I walked down to the podium. It was only about a hundred feet, but it felt like a lifetime.

“Declare yourself,” the Keeper of Records said.

“I’m Nevada Frida Baylor. I come to be recognized as an Elenchus and to seek formation of House Baylor.”

“Before we begin, are there any affiliations and alliances to other Houses you wish to declare?”

“Yes. In the event of the formation of House Baylor, House Baylor intends to sign a Mutual Aid Pact with House Harrison.”

“So noted,” the Keeper stated.

“Also, I wish to announce my engagement to Connor Rogan of House Rogan.”

Everyone sat up straighter and looked at Rogan. For the first time since I’d known him, shock showed on Rogan’s face. It was there only for a fleeting second, but I saw it and I would savor it for the rest of my life.

Linus Duncan laughed quietly.

“Has anyone pressured or threatened you into making this engagement?” the Keeper asked.

“No. I agreed to marry Connor Rogan, because I love him.”

“Does House Rogan confirm the engagement?” the Keeper asked.

“Yes,” Rogan said, his face again a neutral mask. “I love Nevada Baylor and want to marry her.”

“So noted,” the Keeper said. “Let us proceed.”

A woman walked into the arena. She was tall and Asian. She looked to be about my mother’s age. She stopped on the other side of the white line drawn on the floor.

“Face your tester,” the Keeper stated.

I walked over and stopped on my side of the white line. The woman raised her hands. Her mind disappeared behind a dense curtain. A truthseeker, using the same trick as Shaffer. But her shield wasn’t quite as dense.

“Nevada Baylor, you must determine truth from lie,” the Keeper stated. “Your tester is a registered Elenchus. Voice your answers only once. If you change your mind, your second answer won’t be counted. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Prepare your magic. Are you ready?” the Keeper asked.

The woman nodded.

I wrapped my magic around her defensive cocoon and began slipping tendrils of it inside. I only needed one to make it through. And there it was.

“Yes,” I said.

“Begin,” the Keeper said.

“Mein Bruder hat einen Hund ,” the woman said.

My magic buzzed. I had no idea what she said, but it didn’t matter. “Lie.”

The woman blinked, startled. She poured more magic into the cocoon. I fed a little more of mine into the tendrils.

“Ich besitze ein Boot .”

“Truth.”

“Rosen sind meine Lieblingsblume.”

“Lie.”

“Are the arbiters satisfied?” the Keeper asked.

“No,” Lenora said. “Let her continue.”

“Lie,” I told her.

Linus Duncan laughed again, showing even, white teeth.

“I’m forty-two years old,” an older arbiter said.

“Truth.” Although he looked a decade older.

“We are satisfied with her diagnostics,” Sylvester Green said. “We wish to see the demonstration of the voice before making the final decision.”

The Keeper bowed his head to my tester. She turned and departed. A man in his thirties replaced her, his face carefully neutral. I reached out to test the waters. His mind was closed off, wrapped in a nutshell of protection. It was very subtle, but it was there.

I looked at the Keeper. “Compelling another person to answer my questions against their will is traumatic.”

“The Office of Records understands your concern,” the Keeper said.

“This man has a protective shield around his mind. I can break through it by brute force, but if the Office would allow me to use chalk, I can compel him to answer with minimal damage.”

“No chalk,” the forty-two-year-old arbiter said.

I turned toward the man. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop stalling,” the man said.

I concentrated and stabbed with my magic, turning it into a dagger. The shell cracked and split. Thank you, Grandmother Victoria.

My magic snapped out and gripped the man’s mind into its fist.

“Tell me your name.”

My will crushed his.

“Benjamin Cars.”

“The shell on your mind isn’t yours. Who put it in place?”

“Orlando Gonzales.”

A commotion broke out behind me, but I couldn’t turn around.

“Why?”

“He doesn’t want you to become a House.”

“Why?”

“He didn’t tell me.”

I turned around. Everyone was looking at one of the arbiters, the one who told me his age.

I released the other man and clamped the arbiter with my will. Behind me Benjamin collapsed, weeping.

The shell around Orlando’s mind was thicker and stronger. I stabbed at it. It held. I stabbed again and again.

He got off his chair and staggered back.

Another stab. He fought me, his will bucking, but if I didn’t do this now, there would be some doubt about the legitimacy of my trial. I couldn’t afford doubt. Our family’s survival depended on it.

Stab. The shell cracked. I poured my magic through the gap and wrenched it open.

I thought about Sturm and Vincent and dead Kurt. Anger surged through me. The arbiter’s will snapped under my pressure.

“Why did you protect Benjamin’s mind?”

His whole body shook from the strain. I squeezed. The world wavered. So much magic spent so quickly.

They wouldn’t keep me from protecting my family. I didn’t care how much they sneered, how many obstacles they put in my way, I would become a House today.

“Answer me.”

The words came out one by one. “I . . . did it . . . because . . . Colleen Shaffer asked me.”

Colleen Shaffer was Garen’s mother.

“Why did Colleen ask you to interfere in my trials?”

“Because . . . she wants . . . you to accept her son. If you fail the trials, you . . . will be . . . vulnerable.”

I released him. Another second, and I would’ve blacked out.

Orlando collapsed on the floor in a heap. Tears rolled from his eyes.

“Interfering with the trials is a mortal offense,” the Keeper said.

Michael stepped forward as if materializing from thin air. He fastened his hand on Orlando, pulled him to his feet, and led him away.

“Are the arbiters satisfied?” the Keeper asked.

A chorus of yesses answered.

“Let it be known that Nevada Frida Baylor was tested and found to be an Elenchus. Congratulations, Ms. Baylor. You may sit down.”

Someone had replaced the muscles in my legs with wet cotton. Somehow, I made it to the chairs and sat down.

“Kick ass,” Arabella whispered in my ear from the right.

“You did it,” Catalina said from the left.

“The Office calls Bernard Adam Baylor.”

Bernard sorted a complex pattern out in record time. They registered him as upper-level Significant.

Catalina was next. She walked out to the line on wobbly legs.

Alessandro Sagredo was just as devastating as his Instagram photo.

“Catalina Baylor,” the Keeper announced. “To be certified as Prime, you must use your powers to make Alessandro step over the white line. If you are unable to compel him to do so, we have a mage of lesser ability ready for you.”

My sister swallowed. She was visibly shaking.

“Are you ready?”

“Do your worst,” Alessandro told her with a grin.

Catalina covered her face with her hands.

You can do it.

“Are you ready?” the Keeper repeated.

“Yes.” She lowered her hands and looked at him. “Do you live in Italy?”

“Yes.”

“There are nice beaches in Italy. One time I went to the beach with my family in Florida. The beaches there are not like they are here. The water is crystal clear, and the sand is white, and you can float for hours and hours, looking at little fishes. They dart around in the water and sometimes you can reach out and almost touch one.”

Sweat broke out on Alessandro’s forehead.

“Do you like the beach?”

“Yes,” he said through clenched teeth.

“I like swimming. One day I would like to go out on a boat. I was going to try the Jet Skis, but a storm came. We have terrible storms in Florida, and here in Texas, too. Do you have storms in Italy?”

“Yes.”

“Come and tell me about it?”

Alessandro took a step over the line and headed for my sister.

Four people tackled him. He threw two of them off and punched the third one in the face.

“I’m so sorry,” Catalina said.

“It’s fine.” Alessandro stopped struggling. “Let go of me. I said, it’s fine.”

The handlers let go of him. Alessandro shook himself, turned to the Keeper, and said, “The young lady is a Prime.”

“The Office of Records thanks House Sagredo for their services.”

Alessandro gave a short nod and walked off to the other door. Wow. That was the first time I had ever seen anyone besides us shrug off Catalina’s magic.

My sister was pronounced a Prime. She came and sat by me. I hugged her.

It was now Arabella’s turn. The arbiters stared holes in her as she walked to the white line. She wore a white robe and nothing else. She seemed so tiny, just a short, petite blond girl standing on the line.

“The Office will test your ability to reason,” the Keeper told her.

A massive blackboard slid from the ceiling and stopped, suspended high above the floor. A piece of chalk as wide as a telephone pole hung from it on a chain.

“Once you transform, you will flip this blackboard. You will see a series of mathematical equations. You must solve them. This will demonstrate to us that you are truly a Prime Metamorphosis and you are in control of your abilities.”

“Does it have to be math?” Arabella asked. “Can I write a short essay?”

“Math is the ultimate test of reason,” the Keeper said.

My youngest sister sighed. “Okay.”

“Transform at will.”

My sister held up her robe. “Don’t look.”

The Keeper lowered his eyes.

The Beast of Cologne tore out of my sister.

The arbiters froze. Some gasped, petrified, others tried to move and slid their chairs back.

The shaggy nightmare shook herself, stomped over to the blackboard, and flipped it over.

• 67+13=
• 7×11=
• 981/8=

She pointed at the last one with the chalk, turned, and looked at the Keeper.

“Do your best,” the Keeper said.

Arabella heaved a sigh. The first one gave her no trouble, although at some point she counted on her clawed fingers. The second she solved in seconds. The third . . .

“It’s baby math,” Catalina growled. “I could do this in my sleep in second grade.”

Arabella ran out of blackboard space, crouched, and began dividing on the floor.

“This is what we get for teaching them Common Core,” one of the arbiters said.

“There is nothing wrong with Common Core,” someone else said.

Arabella wrote, “This sucks!” on the floor and kept dividing. Finally, she stood up, wrote 124 on the board, and glared at the Keeper. Catalina slapped her hand over her face.

“I say we take it,” Linus said. “Otherwise we might be here all night.”

Fifteen minutes later, House Baylor, triumphant, emerged from the Office of Records. Finally. We won. Nothing was hanging over our heads. The conspiracy was thrashing in its death throes. We secured immunity for our family for the next three years. Rogan asked me to marry him. There were things to solve in the future: me moving out, a new base of operations, finding money to keep up with our new status. But those things would wait.

I wanted to celebrate.

My family walked to the cars. Rogan turned to me.

“Take a ride with me?”

“Where to?”

“I thought we’d go to the country for a couple of hours.”

“What’s in the country?”

“My mother.”

“You’re taking me home to meet your mother?”

“She can’t wait to meet you. In fact, if I don’t bring you over, I might be in danger. Will you come with me?” He held out his hand.

“Always.” I put my hand into his. I wasn’t sure what the future would bring, but I knew I wouldn’t face it alone.

Connor smiled at me, and we walked together to his car.

“Would you like a formal engagement celebration?” he asked.

“No.”

“So just a ring then?”

“A sensible ring.”

“Define sensible.”

“Something I could wear every day while doing my job and not be afraid to lose, because it’s too expensive.”

He didn’t say anything.

“I mean it, Rogan. Do not buy me a one of a kind diamond the size of a grape.”

He laughed, my mad, mad dragon.

“I’m serious!”

“Of course, dear.”

This was going to be one wild ride.

Victoria Tremaine strolled through the garden path, painfully conscious of the man next to her. Roses bloomed on both sides. She never cared for roses. She preferred simpler, sturdier flowers. Like carnations.

“You have to admit, for a prison, this is rather posh,” the man said.

“A prison is a prison, even if it comes in the shape of a country club.”

“Think of it as a long-deserved vacation. Something tells me it won’t last long.”

They strolled on.

“Your granddaughter sent shock waves through H-town.”

Victoria smiled.

“Last I heard, they are beginning construction of a new family home. Not far from House Rogan’s country place, from what I understand.”

“Who wants a long commute to visit the family,” Victoria said.

“Indeed.”

“Whatever happened to that little weasel, the one who started this mess. Brian Sherwood? I heard his brother killed him.”

“He did. Disemboweled him with one of Sturm’s swords apparently.”

“I didn’t think he’d have the guts.”

“Victoria! You’re terrible.”

“I thought that was quite clever. What about the wife?”

“Edward and Rynda are engaged. They are retiring to the West Coast. Apparently, Edward wants to grow apples on an orchard, and she can’t wait to go with him.”

They strolled some more.

“Do they suspect you?” she asked.

“No. They’ve made their last round of arrests from Olivia’s files. I’m in the clear. The cause isn’t dead, Victoria. We will build New Rome. It will take time, a few years perhaps, but we will persevere.”

“Without me.”

“That would be a shame.”

“There is nothing you can offer me,” she said.

“Oh, I don’t know. You might change your mind. You’re like me, Victoria.” He grinned. “You like to do things that make life interesting. We both do so hate to be bored.”