Page 58 of Villains Never Die

My phone rang, and I glanced over my shoulder at Gray, who stood talking to one of the warehouse workers, then picked up to answer.

Unknown number.

“Austin here,” I answered, unsure of what to expect on the other end of the line.

“Austin,” said an upbeat man on the other side. “This is Wesley Lake. I’m running for a seat on the—”

“Yes, of course,” I said, switching the phone to my other ear and moving even further from anyone who might hear. “What can I help you with?”

“I’d like to set up a meeting, if you have time this week. I’ve heard about your work and I thought we should get to know each other. It’s important for me to know all the magicians of influence in the city.”

A trap.

That was my first thought.

“What have you heard?” I asked.

“Some of my allies in the election have talked about your nightclub and the charities you support. It’s wonderful to see people of status giving back to the magicians’ community in Ashbruck.” He paused, then lowered his voice. “I understand you also engage in transactions of historical and magical significance with private clients.”

Almost certainly a trap then, but one I’d stand in willingly if it meant I could suss out whether this man was actually a threat.

“Of course. I have an opening for a meeting later this afternoon around four o’clock. You can come to my office.” I did not have an opening in the afternoon. I’d planned to spend all day and night at the warehouse, but Gray could handle it without me.

“Great,” he said. “I know the address, so I’ll see you then.”

He hung up the phone and I sighed, striding across the room to Gray. He looked up, and when the other employee saw me coming, he made himself scarce.

“I have a meeting with Wesley Lake this afternoon. Clear anything else off my schedule.”

“You got it,” he said.

“Thank you,” I said. His eyebrows jumped. His mouth opened and closed. I rarely offered gratitude, and he witnessed it with surprise, then decided not to mention it.

***

Wesley was younger than Emmett. I suspected he was even younger than me. I vetted him before this meeting and learned that he gained a foothold in the Boston Council when he was nineteen, learned the ins and outs of politics, and came here a year ago to climb higher on the political ladder. Blonde and lanky, he reclined in the chair across my desk with complete ease, but I recognized the glint of ambition in his eyes.

His political platform was as Gray had said—strengthen the magicians’ position in the supernatural world rather than Emmett’s goal of improved interspecies cooperation. Wesley Lake wanted each of the supernatural peoples to stay in their own lane, and he ran an entire political campaign on it.

“I’ll get right to the point, Austin,” he opened with. “I’m aware of your questionable business practices. You run a good front with Avalon and the galas and legitimate sales, but you’re well-known enough that all of that doesn’t hide your actual business.”

Behind the desk, I did not flinch, did not blink. I waited for him to continue, quietly calculating whether he would prove an ally or never walk out the doors again. Killing a Council candidate would put me in a precarious position. I would avoid it if I could.

“I don’t care about any of that,” he continued. “You have real power, real influence in this city. If I want to accomplish my goals, I need the big players on my side. It’s my understandingthat you’re the biggest, so I’m here to ask for your support when voting time comes.”

A full minute passed as I pretended to consider it.

“Let’s say what you’re telling me has any truth to it,” I said, leaning forward on the desk with my elbows. “I don’t give a damn about the other magicians in this city, aside from how they can serve my own goals. My question, then, is how voting for you benefits me.”

“Emmett’s fluffy goals of everyone getting along and putting aside differences and shitting rainbows and butterflies is a pipe dream and an embarrassment. Legislature that solidifies that position weakens all magicians, and you have the most to lose.”

I considered that and realized he was right. Emmett’s Council goals did not serve me, but cutting our people off from everyone else and a leader willing to turn a blind eye—or even enhance—my own goals would give me more power over magicians. Wesley would build the illusion of more protection for our people while actually weakening our position in the supernatural world, and with fewer options and tighter laws, I’d be stronger than ever.

“I’m still listening,” I said.

“I will make sure you lose nothing. No one will even look in your direction, and I can discreetly funnel Council matters that might be of interest to you into your business. Consider it a door into the Council itself without any of the political maneuvering required.”

Premature agreement showed a weak spine, so I only nodded and said, “I will consider your offer and be in touch.”