Splintered Gates, page 27
CHAPTER 24
“The hardest choices are rarely between good and evil, but between competing goods where someone always loses.” —Excerpt from Elizabeth Drexler’s research journal
I stood at the warehouse window, watching as Nadia and Matthew continued their tense collaboration. Their body language told the whole story, Nadia keeping maximum distance while still able to work together, Matthew maintaining careful, deliberate movements as if afraid any sudden gesture might shatter their fragile alliance.
Marcus had taken over a corner with his laptop, mapping the energy patterns of Lang’s network. Johnson from the Agency had arrived an hour ago with specialized equipment.
Everyone had their role. Everyone except me.
I couldn’t shake the conversation with Matthew. Lang’s plan to rescue his son using a permanent gateway was insanity, but the desperate father’s motivation was something I understood. And then there was Nadia’s revelation about Elena. I’d felt betrayed when I discovered she’d been using me, but how could I honestly hold that against her? In her position, I’d have done the same thing.
Now I faced an impossible choice: stop Lang’s ritual entirely, condemning two people to an eternity in Hell, or help modify the ritual and risk unimaginable damage if anything went wrong.
“You’re doing that thing again,” Marcus said, coming over with two steaming cups of coffee. He handed me one. “That thousand-yard stare where you’re running scenarios and none of them end well.”
I accepted the coffee with a nod. “Is it that obvious?”
“Only to someone who’s known you as long as I have.” He leaned against the window frame. “Want to talk it through?”
“I keep coming back to the same problem. Lang’s design is flawed. But if we shut it down completely...”
“James and Elena stay trapped,” Marcus finished. “Yeah. That’s a hell of a choice.”
“It shouldn’t be my choice to make,” I said quietly.
Marcus was silent for a moment, then set down his coffee. “You know what I keep thinking about? That summer after your mom died. You were fifteen, staying at our place because your dad was... whatever he was doing. And you found that injured hawk in the backyard.”
I hadn’t thought about that in years. “It had a broken wing.”
“Everyone said to leave it. Let nature take its course. Your dad, when he finally called, said the same thing: It was too risky, might have diseases, might bite you.” Marcus smiled slightly. “You spent three weeks nursing that bird back to health anyway. Built a splint out of popsicle sticks and fed it raw hamburger with chopsticks.”
“It flew away eventually.”
“It did. And my point is that you’ve never been able to walk away from something you might be able to save. Even when it’s stupid. Even when it’s dangerous.” He met my eyes. “So stop pretending you haven’t already decided. The question isn’t whether you’re going to try to save them. It’s how you’re going to pull it off without getting everyone killed.”
The bluntness of it cut through my circular thinking.
“I think we need a third option,” I said finally. “And I need to talk to Mercer.”
I slipped away and texted Mercer. Need to meet. Privately. Agency matters only. 30 minutes.
Her response came immediately. Confirmed.
The place she sent me to was a small coffee shop in an unremarkable strip mall—the kind of place where conversations disappeared into ambient noise. Mercer was already there, wearing civilian clothes that made her look like any other professional taking a coffee break. Only the alertness in her eyes gave her away.
“You’re late,” she said as I slid into the seat across from her.
“Traffic.”
She pushed a cup toward me. “Black, two sugars.”
I wrapped my hands around the cup. “I need to talk about Lang.”
Her posture shifted, a barely perceptible tensing. “What about him?”
“I think there’s more to his story than we’re being told.”
For several seconds, Mercer just looked at me. Then she took a deliberate sip before responding.
“Johnny Lang was one of our most brilliant researchers. His work on boundary theory was groundbreaking.”
“I know about my mother and Lang,” I said. “I know you’ve known the whole time.”
Mercer’s expression didn’t change. “I made a judgment call about what information would help versus hinder your investigation.”
“So she worked with him?”
“Not at first. They were aware of each other’s research but never collaborated directly.” Mercer set down her cup. “Your mother was more cautious. Lang was more ambitious.”
“And the Agency encouraged that ambition.”
“Eventually the Agency terminated his official relationship when his proposals became too dangerous.” She paused. “But there are elements within the Agency who continued supporting his research unofficially.”
“And you?”
“I opposed it. Boundary experimentation at that scale violates every safety protocol we have. But I wasn’t director then.”
“And now? What’s the official position on Lang’s current activities?”
“Containment. Prevention. By any means necessary.” Her tone left no room for interpretation. "The Agency's resources are already stretched thin," she added. "We're still monitoring the enhanced civilians from the Bloom Stone incident—Emma Chen's group alone requires weekly check-ins. Another dimensional breach would overwhelm our containment capacity entirely."
“I know,” I agreed. “But his son is still trapped. And so is Elena Winters.”
Mercer’s expression hardened. “You cannot be suggesting we allow his ritual to proceed.”
“Not as designed. But what if there’s a way to modify it? Create a temporary, controlled opening just long enough to extract them without establishing a permanent gateway?”
“The risk—”
“Is significant. But so is condemning innocent people to Hell when we might have the power to save them.”
Mercer sat back. “That’s a dangerous comment, Cal. This isn’t about morality. It’s about physics. Lang’s design has a critical flaw.”
“I know. But Matthew is cooperating. And my abilities...” I met her gaze. “You know what I am. If Lang’s ritual creates excess energy, I might be able to channel it.”
“At what cost to yourself?” she asked sharply.
“Maybe it’s worth trying if it means saving two lives without risking countless others.”
Mercer was silent for a long moment.
“You’re asking me to authorize a high-risk modification to a potentially catastrophic ritual, based on theoretical applications that haven’t been tested at this scale.”
I nodded.
“And your alternative?”
“I’ll find a way to undermine what he’s doing anyway, without Agency support. If he succeeds in opening a permanent gateway…”
She sighed. “You would do this yourself?”
“If I have to.”
Another long silence. Then, “I want a direct approach. Secure the site, detain Lang, dismantle the network. However”—she held up a hand before I could object—”I recognize that your perspective has value. I’ll authorize a modified operation. Your team can attempt rescue, but Agency personnel will maintain a containment perimeter. At the first sign the boundary becomes unstable, we shut it down. No exceptions. Are we clear? Our purpose is to prevent the permanent gateway. Nothing else.”
“Perfectly clear.”
“I’m trusting you. Don’t make me regret it.”
As she stood to leave, I touched her arm. “Mercer. Why did you really agree?”
For a moment, something like old grief crossed her face. “Your mother once faced a similar choice. I’ve often wondered what would have happened if we’d given her the chance to try her way.”
Before I could respond, she was gone.
Back at the warehouse, the atmosphere had shifted—focused, urgent, something that might have been hope. Nadia and Matthew had progressed from tense negotiation to actual collaboration, their workspace covered with modified diagrams.
Alison was there, which I hadn't expected. She spotted me immediately and crossed the warehouse floor with the determined stride I'd learned to recognize—the one that said she had opinions about my recent decisions.
"Mercer sent me," she said, but her eyes added: And I would have come anyway.
Her gaze swept the room, landing briefly on Nadia where she bent over diagrams with Matthew. Something flickered across Alison's expression—not jealousy, she didn't do jealous—but the careful assessment of someone cataloguing new variables. When her eyes returned to mine, they held a question she didn't voice.
"How'd you find this place?"
"Johnson filed a location report when he arrived." She lowered her voice, stepping closer so the others couldn't hear. "What exactly did you say to her?"
"The truth. And then what I'd do if she didn't listen."
She studied me for a moment, and I saw the calculations happening behind her eyes—the agent assessing risk, the partner weighing loyalty, the woman trying to reconcile both.
"You know I'm supposed to report anything that compromises Agency objectives."
"I know."
"And you trusted me enough to let me walk in here anyway."
It wasn't a question. But I answered it. "I trust you enough to know you'll do what's right. Even if that means turning me in."
Something shifted in her expression—surprise, maybe, or recognition. "That's either the most honest thing you've ever said to me or the most manipulative."
"Can't it be both?"
The ghost of a smile crossed her face. "With you? Always." Alison touched the silver bracelet on her wrist.
We'd tried, after the Courts. One dinner where neither of us could stop scanning exits. Two cancelled coffees when emergencies interrupted. Eventually we'd stopped pretending—we worked better as partners than as anything more complicated. I'd thought I'd made peace with that. Then Nadia happened, and I realized I'd only been telling myself I had.
“What do you need from me?”
“Someone I trust to coordinate between our team and Agency personnel.”
“Done.” She glanced toward the others. “And if things go wrong?”
“Then we contain the threat, no matter what. That was my promise.”
I called for everyone’s attention. “The Agency will support a modified approach. Primary objective remains preventing a permanent gateway, but we’ve been authorized to attempt rescue for both James and Elena.”
Nadia’s eyes widened. “How did you convince them?”
“Certain conditions.”
“And Lang?” Matthew asked.
“We may need his cooperation to modify the ritual safely. That’s where things get complicated.”
I turned to Marcus. “Timeline?”
He consulted his laptop. “The circles are in place but won’t be fully powered until the final hours before activation. Just over twenty-four hours.”
“Then that’s our window.” I looked around at each person. “Nadia, Matthew, finalize the modified design. Marcus, coordinate monitoring equipment with Johnson. Alison, you’re our bridge to containment teams.”
As the team dispersed, Matthew appeared at my side.
“You’re taking an enormous risk,” he said quietly. “For people you’ve never met.”
“Maybe. But I’m not most people.” I glanced toward Nadia. “And neither is she. Or you. You could have stayed with Lang. Instead, you came to us.”
Matthew followed my gaze. “She hates me, you know. What I am. What I represent.”
“And yet you’re working together now. Sometimes the present crisis matters more than ancient history.”
He smiled slightly. “Is that wisdom or naivety?”
“Probably both.”
As he walked away, Marcus caught my arm.
“I’ve been running the numbers on Lang’s network,” he said quietly. “The energy flows, the timing, the cascade patterns.” His expression was troubled. “Cal, even with the modifications Matthew and Nadia are planning, the margin for error is razor-thin. I’m talking fractions of a second, percentages of power fluctuation. One miscalculation and...”
“I know.”
“Do you? Because I’ve modeled seventeen different scenarios, and only three of them end with everyone walking away.” He held my gaze. “And in those three, you’re the variable that makes the difference. Your abilities. Which means if this goes wrong, you’re the one standing at ground zero.”
I’d known it intellectually. Hearing Marcus lay it out in cold numbers made it real.
“Then we make sure it doesn’t go wrong.”
“That’s not—” He stopped, frustrated. “I’m not trying to talk you out of it. I know better. I just need you to understand what I’m seeing in these models. When the energy peaks, when the boundary starts to flex, everything is going to depend on you making the right call in a fraction of a second. And if you hesitate, if you’re thinking about Nadia, or Elena, or what might have been, people die.”
The weight of that settled on me. Marcus wasn’t being dramatic. He was being precise, the way he always was. Seventeen scenarios. Three successful. And I was the variable.
“I won’t hesitate,” I said.
"You know," Marcus said quietly, "when your mom died and your dad went into whatever spiral he went into, I was terrified I was going to lose you too. Not to magic or monsters—just to the grief. You got so quiet that year. So careful." He ran a hand through his hair. "I've spent fifteen years watching you put yourself in danger for other people. And every time, part of me is still that college kid wondering if this is the call where you don't come back."
"Marcus—"
"I'm not asking you to stop. I know better." He managed a crooked smile. "I'm just saying—when you're standing at ground zero making that split-second decision? Remember that some of us are counting on you to walk away from it. Not just for the world. For us." He studied me for a long moment, then nodded. “Okay. Then let’s make sure you have everything you need to make the right call when it matters.”
I pulled out my phone and sent one more text. Need your input on a developing situation. Warehouse on Eastbrook Industrial.
Rex’s response came a minute later. On my way. Bringing supplies. Don’t start the interesting parts without me.
With Rex joining us, our team would be complete. The plan was taking shape: modified ritual design, Agency containment perimeter, coordinated monitoring, and somewhere in the middle of it all, me. I was the variable that determined whether some people lived or an entire region died.
Outside the warehouse windows, the sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of red and orange that looked unsettlingly like fire.
I thought about Marcus’s hawk story. Three weeks of feeding a wild thing raw hamburger with chopsticks, everyone telling me to give up, and then watching it fly away.
This was bigger. The stakes were incomprehensibly higher. And unlike the hawk, if I failed, it wouldn’t just die quietly in a cardboard box.
Nadia caught my eye across the warehouse; just a glance, but there was something in it. Gratitude, maybe. Or fear. Or the same impossible hope I was trying not to feel.
CHAPTER 25
“The most dangerous magic isn’t what seems obviously destructive. It’s the kind that reshapes reality so subtly you don’t realize it’s happening until the world you knew is gone.” —Elizabeth Drexler’s research journal
Rex arrived at the warehouse in a vintage Bronco that looked like it had survived multiple apocalypses. He hauled a large military-style duffel bag from the passenger seat, grunting with the effort.
“Took longer than expected,” he announced. “A little bit of activity happening.”
I moved to help him with the bag. “Mercer’s preparing for Lang’s endgame.”
“Or covering her own position,” Rex countered. “Agency politics get messy when boundary magic is involved.”
The bag was heavier than it looked. Rex unzipped it with a flourish, revealing specialized detection equipment, shielding charms calibrated for demonic energy, and five antique pocket watches on silver chains.
“Modified temporal anchors,” he explained. “Keep you grounded in our reality if you get too close to dimensional distortions.”
Matthew approached, studying the equipment. “Impressive. Similar to designs I’ve worked with, but with refinements I haven’t seen.”
Rex gave Matthew an appraising look. “Boundary walker. These should help stabilize your transitions if necessary.”
He reached deeper into the bag and extracted five leather bracelets inlaid with fine silver wire. “Thread-dampeners. Won’t completely hide your signature, but they’ll mask it enough to avoid automated detection.”
Nadia’s eyebrows rose. “These are rare. Most practitioners don’t even know they exist.”
“I’m not most practitioners,” Rex replied, handing her one.
Marcus finally spoke up. “Is anyone going to introduce me to our new friend?”
“Sorry,” I said. “Marcus, this is Rex. Runs Jangles Record Shop as cover, but he’s actually an information broker with specific expertise. And someone who knows my father.”
“Before you were born,” Rex said. “Lost touch after your mother passed. But Frank asked me to keep an eye on things from a distance.” He smiled faintly. “You haven’t made that easy.”
We left for Blackridge Valley two hours later, the sun already descending. Marcus drove, with Nadia and Matthew maintaining careful distance in the back seat despite the confined space.
Thilly had insisted on coming, hiding in my jacket pocket. Now she occasionally peeked out, her glow dimmed. “Doorway place close,” she whispered. “Many magics tangled together. Dangerous-wrong feeling.”
