By the time we reach the tent, the security detail stationed there has been roundly defeated by the incursion of Scalers. They’re lying on the ground, none of them moving, except for one, who’s frantically pushing buttons on the bank of monitors.
“What happened, Mr. Collins?” Elena asks.
Collins, a short older man with square glasses, turns to Elena. “I’m sorry, Ms. Montoya,” he says in a reedy voice, which I recognize as that of the man who had sent in the Mayday call to Ben. “There was nothing we could do. They had dart guns, and they picked off all the others one by one.” He crosses over to a small table - the same one where Ben and Elena had been sitting before - and spreads his arms out, gesturing to the small pile of darts sitting on the plastic surface.
“Why’d they spare you?” Ben asks.
Collins frowns. “I’m not sure.” He presses another button, and the sounds of screaming start to issue from the speakers. “They just held me at gunpoint, probably so I could see what they were doing.”
“Which was what, exactly?”
“They sprung the prisoner,” Collins says, gesturing to the screens. Most of them are black, except for a couple that show what must be the inside of the Ice palace. Silver-haired Ices are cowering as hooded, gun-wielding Scalers herd them into corners.
“I dunno about you guys,” I mutter out of the corner of my mouth, “but I’d be willing to bet those aren’t non-lethal dart guns.”
“Oh my God,” Evan breathes, a horror-struck look on her face as she watches the hostage-taking in progress.
“Shut up!” We all jump a couple of feet until we realize the gruff, British-accented voice is coming from the speakers. I take a look at the screen, trying to spot Oscar West, but between all the hooded men, it’s impossible to tell them apart at a glance.
I finally pick Oscar out of the crowd when he takes his hood off, revealing his shaved head.
“Oh shit,” Harris whispers. “That’s not good. He’s showin’ his face. That always means-”
“Yeah, we get it, Harris,” I say, shuddering as the implications cross my mind as well. “All right. Well, we gotta do something. We can’t just let these assholes ruin the party.”
Collins frowns. “Well, what do you suggest we do? They have better weapons than us. They’re stronger than us.”
Elena crosses the room, picking up one of the darts from the table. “Mr. Collins, as always, you fail to think outside the box,” she says. “They may have better weapons and strong magic - but so do we. And unlike them, we don’t put all our proverbial eggs in one basket.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” asks Michelle.
“The Scalers are almost all Dark,” Elena says. “Our friend Oscar West is a rare exception - he is both Dark and Ice. That is why he registered correctly on your scanner, Mr. Cross.”
I raise my eyebrows at Elena. “Did he tell you guys all this during interrogation, or did he volunteer the information willingly?”
“Neither,” Elena says. “Mr. Collins may be a terrible strategist” - the man hangs his head in shame - “but he makes up for it with his computer skills. He was able to perform a very elaborate background check on Mr. West. Or, should I say, Mr. Drake?”
“What?” I ask. “Drake? As in Marten Drake? But he’s not-”
“He’s Marten Drake’s son,” Collins says. “The first of thirteen children born to the man to four different wives over the the course of thirty years.”
Elena nods. “All of Marten Drake’s children are kept hidden from us, and we suspect they are registered under false names. We’ve been able to uncover only two other confirmed offspring of his. One is a Normal, so she stays largely out of touch with the family.” She pauses, takes a second to gaze at the screens, then continues. “The other is the boy you mentioned to us yesterday, Mr. Cross. He calls himself Henry Morgan, and he’s the youngest of Drake’s children.”
“Why does that not surprise me?” Harris mutters.
“So you’re sayin’ that because we got all the elements between us,” Michelle says, “we’re stronger than they are?”
“Especially ‘cause we have some Lights,” Evan says, turning to Rachel, then to Henley.
“Yeah, we can do some real damage to these guys,” Rachel says, grinning.
“You can, maybe,” Henley says. “I suck at warlock stuff, though, ‘cause I’m so young.” He shines his Light onto the ground in front of him. “This is about all I can do.”
“Oi!” Oscar yells over the speakers, startling us again. We turn to the screens and see him speaking directly to the camera. “I’m sure by now you Severide people know we mean business. So I’ll make this simple. You have ten minutes to send in your chosen negotiator, or my men and I will start killin’ hostages.”
Oscar straps his big rifle to his back, then pulls a smaller gun from a holster on his belt. “I’ll select a random victim now,” he says, “just to prove my point.”
He turns to the nearest cluster of Ices, who immediately scream and curl up, hoping to minimize whatever target he chooses. Oscar then waves his gun around from one Ice to another, in a manner that reminds me suspiciously of “eenie-meenie-miney-mo.”
“Mo” turns out to be none other than Christine Rand. Henley screams louder than any of the other sounds that play out in that moment - the gunshot (which we can hear from here, a split second before the speakers reproduce it), the cries of terror from the hostages, etc.
Only after Christine crumples to the ground and lays still does Oscar reach down and, none too carefully, pull a dart from her neck.
“I’m no barbarian,” Oscar says, holding the blood-tinged dart up to the camera before casually tossing it aside. “I won’t kill my kid sister.”
Elena turns to Collins. “Get on that background check as soon as this is over. Which one of you scanned that woman in, do you remember?” she asks us kids.
“Ch-Christine Rand,” Henley stutters, his face already lined with tears. “My mom.”
Elena’s mouth opens slightly, then she approaches Henley and lays a hand on his shoulder. “I promise, Mr. Rand, we’ll take good care of your mother.”
“Please,” Henley says.
Elena leaves Henley, prompting Harris to take her place at his side. “Mr. Williams, I think it’s time for you to...erm...well, not so much negotiate as distract. Are you ready?”
Ben shakes his head. “I’m not gettin’ paid enough for this. Even my Christmas bonus from North…” His voice trails off, then picks up again a moment later. “I suppose you want me to go in blind and unarmed.”
“Not necessarily,” Elena says, pulling open a drawer under the monitors and removing another strange device. This one looks like an old-timey computer game joystick - I think I used to have one like it when I was little, back when I only had PC games. She also pulls out what look like ordinary Ray-Ban spex - except I can see the little metallic stud things at the upper corner of the frame are not silver, but black.
Henley gapes at the sight. “Hey, you guys made my design after all!”
“Your design?” Harris repeats. “What, you made some kind of super-cool weapon out of glasses?”
“I would have done it myself, but Mom wouldn’t fund my projects anymore after my robot short-circuited the microwave.”
I’m starting to like this kid more and more. “So, you invent things? You think you’re a little Jimmy Neutron?”
“But with better hair,” Henley laughs, patting his shaggy blond head. “And a tighter budget, unfortunately.”
“So how does this thing work?” Evan asks.
“Put it on,” Henley tells Ben, “then press the button on the left-hand side.”
“What button?” Ben asks, examining the left-hand side of the glasses.
Henley sighs, then presses the black stud on the corner. “That button,” he says. “That’s the camera on, in theory.”
Collins goes to the monitors, selects one, then cycles through a few menus until he changes the image from a solid wall of black to a scratchy but definite picture of Henley’s gray hoodie and red T-shirt. “Got the image,” he says unnecessarily.
Ben picks the glasses up and puts them on. On screen, we see essentially what Ben sees. He looks down at Henley and Harris, and they look back up at him. They also gaze out at the whole room from that one screen.
“And what about weapons?” he asks. “Is that what the stick’s for? What does that do?”
“Let’s just say it involves nanites and leave it at that,” Henley says. “There are nanites, right?”
Elena nods. “Yes, but obviously, we’re not going to be testing that out right now. If worst comes to worst, however, the nanites will be entirely at your disposal, Mr. Rand.”
Henley steels himself. “Non-lethal, I hope?”
“Nothing worse than a sore throat,” Elena says. “Unless any of these Scalers happen to suffer from a nickel allergy.”
“I almost wish that bald guy does,” Henley says, taking the joystick as Elena hands it to him. “I bet he’s lyin’ about my mom bein’ his sister, for one thing.” He pauses. “And nobody, I mean nobody, gets to fuck with my mom like that.”
I’m forced to get in line - literally - to fist-bump Henley in praise of his little badass line.
“Five minutes!” yells Oscar from the Ice palace.
Ben sighs heavily. “It’s gonna take me three just to get there. I should go. Wish me luck, guys.”
“Kick ass for us,” I say.
“No promises,” Ben says, the ghost of a smile beginning to form on his face. He turns around and leaves the tent.
After spending a minute watching Ben’s progress as he walks to the palace, Elena turns back to us. “You children don’t have to spend this whole time sitting back and waiting and worrying. I do have something in mind for you to do.”
“You always do,” Michelle says. “Please tell me we get to go in and show those Scalers who’s really boss.”
Elena doesn’t say a word. Instead, she opens a cabinet full of the same weapons we used in the testing facility. I recognize the staff I picked out, and Harris’s katana.
“You read my mind,” Michelle says, grinning as she reaches for the bow and arrows she used last time. “You’re still not gonna let me keep it, though, are you?”
Elena purses her lips. “Well, perhaps if you break it, you could always buy it.”
“Funny.” Michelle pulls her quiver into place and holds her bow tightly in one hand.
“So what else are we gonna do?” I ask. “Are we gonna be breakin’ into the palace to rescue all the Ices?”
“Eventually, if Ben can sufficiently distract the Scalers,” Elena says. “I’ve got it all worked out. You, Miss Michaelsen, and Mr. Samson will fly up to the top of the palace and burst in from above. Miss Dunn and Mr. McCallum, as our resident Fires, will at the same time melt their way in through the main door.”
Michelle picks an arrow from her quiver and lights it on fire. “I’m gonna love this,” she says before pulling the Fire off the arrow and throwing it outside the tent.
“What about us?” asks Adele, pointing to Rachel.
“As the smallest ones going into the palace, you two will be the ones sneaking around and untying the hostages,” Elena says. “And remember, Miss Aster, use your Light to stun any Scalers who may try to hurt you.”
“It’s not cool to hurt people,” says Rachel. “But for these guys, I guess I can make an exception.”
Henley scoffs. “You guess?”
“So are we supposed to just go in guns blazing, or do we have to wait for some kind of signal?” Harris asks.
“Good thing you asked,” Elena says. “This is your signal - Ben will say, ‘Have you been up North in a while?’”
The word “North” prickles in my brain. “That’s, like, the second time you guys have said ‘North’ tonight. Is there some significance to that word that I’m missing out on?”
“That’s just our code name for the boss,” Collins says, turning around from the monitors. “Just as you kids are the Magi.”
“I know, most of our codes don’t seem to make sense,” Elena says. “Ask North, if you ever get the chance. He’s the one who comes up with most of them.”
“Okay, shh,” Collins says, turning his back on us again. “Ben’s just gotten to the building.”
On screen, we see Ben knocking on the palace door. “Let him in!” Oscar yells, and two of his hooded underlings rush to do so. Ben goes into the palace, then gets searched by the same two subordinates.
“You again,” Oscar says. “I suppose you’re here to tell me our demands aren’t gonna be met, that your bloody corporate bosses won’t negotiate with terrorists?”
Ben shakes his head, causing the image on the monitor to move from side to side. “That would only apply if you were actual terrorists,” he says. “You guys are just mercenary bastards.”
Oscar runs his hands over the barrel of his rifle. “You, sir, are lucky I’m in a good mood. And even luckier that you won’t be dealin’ with me.”
“I won’t?” Ben sounds just as surprised as we are.
“Hell no,” Oscar says. “I’m only the muscle behind this operation. This is the brains.” He gestures to someone behind Ben, forcing us to turn to the other monitors to see who he’s talking about.
Another hooded man comes into view and says, “You the negotiator?” His voice is muffled by the hood, making it sound just as rough as Oscar’s.
“Y-Yes,” Ben says, his voice shaking.
“Come with me,” the other guy says, pointing down the hall with his gun. He leads Ben out of the main chamber, up the stairs, and into a small room with soft pink lighting, in direct contrast with the light blue in the rest of the palace.
“You know, I love what you’ve done with the place,” Ben says. “It looks just like the Norwegian palace. I was there last year, when all the trouble went down with you guys. It’s beautiful this time of year. Have you been up North in a while?”
“There’s your signal, Magi,” Elena says. “Go get ‘em, kids!”
I nod curtly, as does Evan. Then we turn around and head for the exit.
But before I get there, I hear a voice issue from the speakers. A voice that’s all too familiar, and therefore chills me to the bone.
“No time to prattle on, Ben,” says the hooded guy - whose accent has suddenly changed from American to English. I turn around just in time to see him pull his hood off, revealing his face for the first time.
No. Fucking. Way.
I must really be tripping balls right now.
How else can I explain the sight of my own father in a Scaler outfit?
“That’s my…” I can’t even finish my sentence, I’m so shocked. “That’s my…”
Elena looks me in the eye. “Mr. Cross, there’s no time to explain. You and the others need to get going, right now.”
I spend a few seconds stammering before finally getting a coherent, angry thought out. “You...you...you knew about this?”
“Mr. Cross-” Elena begins, but then chaos erupts in the palace, practically shattering the speakers as they carry the onslaught of noise our way. Long story short, one unlucky Ice warlock tries to be a hero, and takes a dive at Oscar’s ankle, trying to pull him down and possibly take his gun.
Unfortunately, there’s still four other Scalers in the room. And all of them have the same knee-jerk reaction: shoot the hostage down in midair. With real guns.
We don’t even have to wait for Elena to yell, “GO!” before we’re all out the door, racing as fast as we can towards the Ice palace.