Page 10 of Capitol Matters

Holland had whirled around with her jaw hanging slack.

I tossed the remote for her to catch, then bared my teeth in a wolfish smile. “Nice friends you have, Investigator. I think I’ll fit right in.”

Her cheeks flushed as she fumbled with the remote and Tobin squalled.

Across the room, a newcomer entered the bullpen. He was an older man, refined, with his gray hair closely cropped and his face shaved smooth. Today he wore a suit, but I’d last seen him in ceremonial robes, presiding over my court hearing. The honorable Maximus Lyle graced us with his presence.

He approached, ignoring the commotion.

“Ah, Mister Farrow, you’re here.” He stopped within arm’s reach. A puzzled glance at Tobin and company prompted a question, but not the one I expected. “May I borrow you for a moment?” he asked. “We have things to discuss.”

Capitol hierarchy had remainedunchanged over the course of my life. Taking a cue from British monarchy across the pond, our leaders were sworn into service for life. Maximus Lyle had been running the show since the United States first sectioned off the two hundred square miles the country’s magical inhabitants called home. A preserve, if you wanted to be gracious about it. A zoo, for those of us who saw things more realistically.

When he wasn’t glad-handing with human politicians, Maximus managed to involve himself in every aspect of our government. He was a benevolent dictator lording over us as though we were sheep in need of constant tending.

I knew him better than some. In my younger years, my family attended dinners at his home. I’d been seated beside him at award banquets where my father was a guest of honor. We’d spoken at length about my future.Recruitment started young for those born into the right bloodlines, and the Farrow family was a proven lineage even before I came into it.

This was not the first time I’d been called into Maximus’s office, but it felt new because my path had strayed far from that of the promising youngster I’d once been. I’d spent the last half of my life as an enemy of the Capitol, and I couldn’t shake the feeling of looming dread as the older man closed the door behind me.

The office itself was the size of a large bedroom. Wood paneling and built-ins created an old world feel absent from the rest of the building. A fireplace flickered on the side wall, and the opposite end of the room boasted windows with heavy curtains drawn. Passing me, Maximus took his seat behind the desk.

I remained on my feet, skimming the books and knickknacks lined on lit shelving. Top hats and wands were meticulously arranged between framed posters and pamphlets from decades-old shows. Household names like Harry Houdini and David Copperfield were spelled out in bold print. They weren’t witches, merely showmen, but the human ambassadors Maximus often hosted found such representations of magic more palatable than the gritty reality of our small corner of the world.

Maximus looked on as I walked the perimeter of the room, my fingers gliding across familiar surfaces. As far as I could tell, every stick of furniture and carefully curated tchotchke remained the same as in my childhood.

“Your father never could sit still, either.” Maximuschuckled. “You look just like him, you know. It’s uncanny.”

So I’d been told a thousand times. Our physical similarities and shared magic made it easy to envision my path in life aligned with my father’s. In fact, it had been a forgone conclusion. Until it wasn’t.

Maximus bridged his fingers. The ghost of a smile lingered on his face. “I always imagined you and Holland would run this place one day. You were both such fine examples of the next generation of our society.”

His use of past tense carried the feeling of another shoe about to drop. I turned toward a row of books pinned in place by an antique vanishing bird cage prop.

“Sadly, you aren’t exactly investigator material anymore,” Maximus said.

I bristled.

“There are too many chinks in your armor, I’m afraid. But that isn’t to say we don’t have uses for someone with your skillset.”

As the conversation took a darker turn, so did my mood. Holland’s band of investigator brats had weakened my resolve, and I didn’t have much patience left to endure Maximus’s backhanded compliments.

I faced him, my expression set on stoic for the duration. “Mister Lyle, as an innocent man, I can’t imagine what skillset you could possibly be referring to.”

He nodded slowly. “I would like to keep our interactions free of pretense and posture. Surely you can appreciate my desire to be direct. I know what you’re capable of. I know who you are, and it is not the talentless victim of fate your lawyer pitched to win youracquittal.”

My lips pursed. I gave no reply as he carried on.

“You were a deadly weapon in the hands of the Bloody Hex, and I believe it’s high time the Capitol had that kind of firepower on our side.”

I wanted to be surprised. Maximus and his investigators wore the white hats, played the good guys in an endless game of cops and robbers. I wished I could feign a gasp and wax poetic about the corruption in government and how the line between good and evil so easily blurred.

Instead, I looked away, watching flames curl around gas logs in the fireplace. How would Grimm feel about this? When he sold me down the river into undercover Capitol work, he must have expected they would make use of me and my “skillset.”

“I assume you’re aware of the motion to open the city gate?” Maximus asked over the sounds of a search through his desk.

“I am.” The fire warmed my legs as I stood with my hands tucked in my slacks pockets.

“It is vitally important our society be allowed to intermingle with humanity,” Maximus said. “To continue to isolate ourselves is self-imposed genocide.”

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