82
MAGGIE
I’m admiring my new work outfit in the mirror, a stylish all-black suit snug enough that I may yet regret my breakfast donut (yeah, those are a thing, okay?) when my phone goes. Only one person’s ever had the gall to call me at seven a.m. when it wasn’t an emergency.
‘So you finally lost your job, Mags? And as your boss, I was the last to know.’
Ahh, Remy Lamarr. Maybe, when I’ve forgiven him for letting Theodorou lock me up, I’ll miss that guy – though not his bawl-outs. But you know what? This past week he hasn’t once crossed my mind, with everything that’s been going down and the clarity it’s brought me. My suspension came from the top, over his head. My conduct wasdeemed inappropriateforundermining the impartiality and values of the police department. Forusing my state-issued firearm without authorisation on foreign soil, I was apparentlyextremely fortunatenot to be charged with an offence myself.
When I received the formal notification, I pretty much had a new role anyway, so yeah, I may have told HR where to stick my suspension and then quit on the spot.
‘I’m really sorry to see you go,’ Remy says, and he actually sounds sad about it. ‘You’re a brilliant cop and we wentthrough some shit together, you and I. But I always knew the witch stuff was gonna undo you.’
Went through some shit. Yeah, cases we didn’t solve. People we couldn’t save. Trials we lost. Yet there were more successes than failures. Remy and I did some good in the world. We were a team – or so I thought.
‘Sucha brilliant cop it’s not even a month since you had Theodorou detain me,’ I say, waspish. ‘Why don’t you give him my job, seeing as he’s better at following orders?’
‘It was for your own good, Maggie.’
‘Yeah? Well, I’ve decided leaving the force is for my own good, too. Start my new gig today. Personal Security for Moot President Yamakawa. Chester’s my assistant. In fact, I gotta go. Big day, as I’m sure you’ve heard.’
He chuckles, and a small sadness twists in my heart. Yeah, I’ll miss Remy Lamarr. But as Harper and her mom have shown me, the best person to look out for you is always you.
‘Let’s have a beer before summer ends,’ he says. ‘For old times’ sake.’
‘I’d like that,’ I say.
It’s hours before the march is due to set off, and already the area in front of the Lincoln Memorial is dense with activity, supporters having bussed in from around the country. Purple-haired girls in denim overalls facepaint laughing kids. A dude with beads plaited into his beard is putting a few final flourishes to the lead processional banner, demandingNO MORE SALEMS – End the persecution now!An earnest youth with piercings marshals crates of water bottles at intervals along the assembly route. A group of stewards already in hi-vis are being taken through their paces. A spry lady in a clerical dog collar and T-shirt saying ‘Jesus loves witches’ leads her cross-legged parishioners in a prayercircle. A coffee chain whose founder prides herself on ‘living her values’ has sent two gleaming Airstreams to distribute freebie cups of joe.
Blue lights flash as first-aid and emergency responders take up positions along the Mall. The noise is overwhelming already, with shouted instructions, reversing vehicle klaxons, groups practising call-and-response slogans, feedback whining from PA systems, folks warming up bullhorns and vuvuzelas. Off in the distance, a speaker is blasting out Queen’s ‘I Want to Break Free’, and I let my feet shuffle to the beat as I fight my way deeper. I finally spy Naomi, a whirlwind, and in the eye of the storm around her are the Redhaven folks: Tavi, Yara, even the old ward-witch Eugene. The Moot and Redhaven working together at last.
‘Should be upward of half a million,’ Tavi says, elbowing her way through the crowds to me. ‘Ain’t that wild. Could have a bigger audience than some presidential inaugurations.’
We exchange side-eye, a welcome moment of relief before things get serious. Together, she and I pace the length of the Mall to the rallying point where Naomi and others will address the crowd.
‘Potential overlooks there and there,’ Tavi says, pointing to far-off buildings. ‘Manageable with a sniper rifle powerful enough. I’ve been asking for more boots on the ground from the state troopers, Capitol security, National Parks Service, District of Columbia Police Department, you name it. Funnily enough they’ve gotlimited resources available for this event, andresponsibility for ensuring public orderfalls to us.’
‘Sniper rifles? How concerned should we be?’
‘Hard to tell. Bo’s been monitoring online and says plenty of threats are being made on anti-witchraft forums, but none that feel particularly credible. Losers behind their keyboards. Still, all it takes is one wacko and one lapse invigilance. That’s why we’ve worked our own safeguards. Powerful perimeter wards to be maintained with crystal arrays secured at intervals.’ I look to where she points. All along the route, iron pickets rammed into the soil hold angular crystals sparkling in the sunshine. ‘What, you didn’t think we dragged ol’ Eugene down here so his reedy voice could wheeze slogans, did’ya? And yes, Yara has made sure there’s signage everywhere advising people they’reentering a zone of magical activity, turn back if you’re uncomfortable with this, etcetera, etcetera.’
I mime wiping my brow.
‘No notes. You’ve got every angle covered. Not former law enforcement, by any chance?’
‘Ex-military, till I found myself constructively dismissed for being a witch. Got a good lawyer, and then a pay-off big enough I could pick what I did next, so I chose resistance.’ Tavi grins. ‘Never expected we’d have the Moot on board with us. Sometimes it takes a common enemy, huh?’
‘And having the right people at the top.’
Tavi’s jaw sets. ‘Yeah. We’d better get our guy back. It’s going to be in Naomi’s speech, right?’
‘The very heart of it.’
Except the call comes an hour before Naomi is due to speak. So, right where she was going to demand Lachlan Frey’s release, instead she’s able to announce it’s been approved. The district prosecutor’s office has ruled that the nullification of his magic, and the prohibition on Redhaven, aresufficient steps to curb Frey’s activities. No further mention of the Montreal incident, given it isn’t something U.S. authorities could pursue a penalty for anyway. (None of us knew what to make of the stiff, anonymous voice down the line from the Justice Department adding,not for disclosure,that Ortiz approves of the decision.)
Even without its rallying cry, the speech is still powerful, all fire and inspiration. Naomi moves with a light touch through the injustices that happen when a society turns on its own. No crass parallels here, but a call-back to her grandparents who were interned as suspect enemy aliens during World War Two purely for their Japanese heritage.My daddy was little more than a baby when he was locked up for more than three years,she says, pointing out a dorky, snowy-haired old guy in a Chargers shirt in the crowd, who gives one of those proud-yet-embarrassed dad-grins.Look at him now. Guess he was even more terrifying as a toddler.
‘America exists to be a beacon to the world,’ she cries, working up to a rousing finale. ‘We are the protectors, not the persecutors. So let us end this un-American and inhumane hatred of witches. Dismantle it from our legal system. Refuse to let it take root in our hearts, so we can truly say that in this great land of ours there will be No More Salems!’
