Chapter 17 — A Gentleman and a Doctor

"I'm sorry about that," Cinza said, closing the door to the cabin behind her.

"What?" Rachel asked, sucking in the cool fresh air of the forest. Anything to help clear her head and bring her back to a normal state of mind.

"Ruby tends to get a bit… enthusiastic."

"Was she trying to, err… seduce me?"

"Something like that," Cinza replied, shrugging. Outside, removed from the firelight glow and warmth of the cabin, she seemed far more like her usual self—though still without the air of mystique she put on for the public. Cinza seemed to be comfortable talking to Rachel normally, or perhaps that was another manipulation. Rachel couldn't be sure. Not in her present condition.

"What part of that was me, and what was her?" Rachel asked.

"Ruby and I are both of the Nature affinity," Cinza said, prompting another small shock for Rachel. Affinities tended to be treated as very personal information, so to reveal one's so openly was a large measure of trust. "She may have gotten a little carried away messing with the air in the cabin." Seeing Rachel's concern, Cinza shook her head. "Rest assured, Mason's Law still applies. Ruby could not have forced you to do anything you didn't want to. Nor would she."

Rachel didn't feel particularly comforted. "Do you two do this to everyone?"

"What?" Her eyes softened and she looked away in embarrassment. Rachel felt immediate regret at her accusation. "No, never. She— I'm sorry, I." Cinza cleared her throat, then looked back to Rachel with renewed conviction. "Please don't blame Ruby. I told her that I felt a bond with you and wanted to know you better, and she interpreted it as wanting to bring you into our bed. Which is not something I'm opposed to, but I wouldn't dream of coercing you into anything. Ruby's addictions notwithstanding, I let myself get carried away. I apologize."

'That's… that's all right." Rachel felt her face flare up. She'd never been in this sort of situation before. Even with Will, Rachel had been the one to approach. Being overly tall and not particularly attractive had made her high school dating life little more than wishful thinking.

Cinza sat down on the small bench just outside the cabin. She was looking at Rachel, but their eyes weren't quite meeting. Cinza's focus kept darting to various places on the wall behind her. "I hope this won't harm our relationship going forward. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"No, it's okay. It's just… not my thing. I mean, I don't know if it is. I've never—can we change the subject?"

"Certainly," Cinza said, barely suppressing a laugh. She stood again, brushing dirt off her robe. Her eyes were focused and sharp once more. "So, what's the exact plan here for the Scrap?"

Relief ebbed into Rachel at the change of topic, though she still felt a little flustered. "It'll be at Hector's tonight, in the safe above his shop. He sleeps there, so he doesn't usually ever have it unguarded, but I'll get him away for a while. You'll know when to move in."

"A signal?"

"Not sure, but I'll make it obvious."

She nodded. "And then we regroup."

"We'll meet back here tomorrow. I think we should start meeting regularly, so that it just looks like the start of a routine."

"Right," Cinza agreed, nodding. She smiled. "I'm glad you'll be coming around more often."

Rachel wasn't sure how the comment was intended, and hesitated before responding. "It's just to coordinate our efforts."

Cinza shook her head. "I didn't mean for anything else, of course. Honestly, I'm just glad to finally speak with someone on level terms, as I'm sure you are. Agreed?"

Rachel nodded in relief. "Agreed."

Cinza nodded. "As for Reverend Smith—"

"Is it going to be a problem?"

Cinza gestured around her encampment. A couple were returning with wood whom Rachel didn't recognize. Morton was talking with Makoto, who was laughing at one of his jokes while they shared a meal near their fresh harvest. Nicole Parsons—who was unawakened, as far as Rachel knew—was helping to clear out a space for an apparent third cabin to accompany the first two. The couple from out of town brought the fresh logs over and set them down where Nikki indicated, then started work on cutting them down to the right size.

A cheer erupted from the harvesters. Aaron and Nate both stood and rushed over to the other cabin. Yusuf, the man who had been burned in the forest, had just walked out the door. His arm was still bandaged and he looked unsteady on his feet, but he was already well on the mend. Aaron looked about to tackle him, but wisely held back at the last minute and settled for a one-armed hug, then helped him to a bench and gave him some of the fresh-picked fruit.

Cinza smiled. "It's a real family. I never knew what one was until I made my own. You can understand why I'm reluctant to allow anyone into our home."

Rachel nodded. "What if you came with me to meet him, today? His house isn't that far. I think he might surprise you."

She sighed. "If it makes your life easier, Rachel. I make no promises, but I will meet with the man." She glanced down at herself and laughed. "Let me go get properly dressed, then I'll walk you back to town. I wouldn't want you to get lost out in the woods." Rachel opened her mouth, full of indignation, but Cinza interrupted. "Not to besmirch your sense of direction, of course. I mean that the forest out here is not what it seems."

"So that's why it was so hard," she grumbled.

Cinza laughed again, quite smug. "Even Omega himself would have a hard time finding our home."

The number of things Rachel had to do was increasing by the hour. There were messages waiting from the mayor, the sheriff, and Will as soon as she returned to cell phone coverage. She still needed to follow up on the odd phone call she'd gotten from Hailey Winscombe, and there was the matter of preparing to steal the Creation Scrap at the end of the day from Hector's. Finally, lowest on her priority list was a growing stack of messages from various members of the town to her new official town email account, asking for details and updates on the case, or expressing increasingly hysterical fears and paranoid delusions.

Rachel had asked for the account to provide her an official outlet of communication, one she could easily manage in her spare time when resting during the night, but she hadn't expected it to get used so heavily only days after its establishment. She'd underestimated how quickly the news would spread, and how hungry the people of Rallsburg were for word on anything to do with the Awakened.

Most importantly, Rachel needed to find the reverend straight away. The sooner she was able to open communication between him and Cinza's people, the better off the entire town would be. Luckily, her return route actually placed her fairly close to the Smith home and clinic. She suspected it might have been a deliberate side effect of whatever magic Cinza used to mask her home's location. Even with her perfect memory, Rachel doubted she could navigate her way back to the clearing without Cinza's assistance. They were doing something to the paths she didn't understand.

Rachel hurried up to Smith's door and knocked. Within moments the door sprung open, startling her. She opened her mouth to speak, but the burly red-haired reverend raised a finger to his lips, quickly shutting the door behind him.

"Miss DuValle, good afternoon. I've got a couple patients inside that are happily asleep. Oh!" He had just spotted Cinza a few paces behind Rachel, flanked by Ruby as usual. The younger girl had insisted on accompanying them, despite Rachel's reservations. Rachel wanted Cinza and the reverend to have an earnest and frank discussion, and she wasn't sure an infatuated dreamer like Ruby had much to add to the conversation. Cinza had not objected, so Rachel was forced to keep her concerns to herself or risk losing Cinza's cooperation.

At least she's not giving me come-hither looks anymore. Rachel didn't need new complications in her life.

"Doctor, this is—"

"Not a doctor, sadly. I never quite finished that school. Something about malpractice liability." He let out a booming laugh, seemingly forgetting his own insistence on quiet. "I kid, I kid. I simply found another calling."

"Right," Rachel said, a touch irritated. While his enthusiasm was pleasant enough most times, right now she could have done with a bit less exuberance. "I've come to introduce you to Cinza, the leader of the…" She paused. The lack of a name for Cinza's group did make introductions a little difficult.

"Greycloaks will do, I suppose," Cinza said, stepping up next to Rachel. She'd returned to her floaty, ethereal voice once again. Smith did an admirable job of not gawking at the ludicrous height difference between the two. Cinza nodded at the man, though her hands remained engulfed in her robes. "We've never really been much for a name."

"And what good is a name if it doesn't really describe you beyond something as simple as clothes!" the reverend answered heartily. "I'm honored to meet you, ma'am. I've been hearing quite a bit about you from my flock amongst the town."

"Nothing good, I take it."

"On the contrary! The people are intrigued by you, if nothing else. I know that might not be the reaction you'd like, but take it as at least a neutral, if not room for a positive. There's room for improvement."

Cinza shrugged. "And what say you, man of the cloth?"

Smith scratched his head. "Man of the cloth, eh? Can't say I've ever heard that one actually spoken aloud." He laughed in his deep infectious belly laugh. Finally realizing how loud he'd gotten, Smith glanced at his clinic. "Can we take a walk? I'd hate to wake those sleeping inside."

"Was someone injured?" Rachel asked.

The doctor raised a wagging finger. "Confidentiality, dear. You know I'd never tell."

She nodded. She'd mostly asked to prompt his response in front of Cinza. The girl looked faintly surprised already by the reverend already. Rachel was pleased.

They set off. The reverend was watching them with an excitable curiosity that she enjoyed. He was almost like an overgrown child learning a new game for the first time and having a blast doing so. "So I suppose you live out in the woods, yes?"

Cinza nodded. "We've made a home for ourselves."

"One I suppose can't be found without magic," he continued, a twinkle in his eye. "How delightfully mysterious."

"It serves us well."

"Reverend!" They both turned to the voice calling from down the street. It was Oscar McKinney, the town handyman, sprinting at them in a panic. "And Rachel. Perfect. Come, quick."

"Slow down, man. What's on fire?" Smith asked.

"Trouble." He turned and started back the way they came. Smith shot a concerned look at Rachel before they both rushed after Oscar.

They turned the corner into the center of town. Rachel let out a sigh of relief. She had been expecting a bloodbath of some kind, but no one seemed to be injured. Her expectations had been too dark of late.

There was, however, a brewing confrontation between a group of mundane men and students, and a cowering, grey-robed and bruised Nate Price with a stone-faced Ryan Walker standing in front of him. His arms and fists looked twice their usual size and strong as steel. None of the crowd was daring to get near him… yet. Rachel hurried closer as voices began to rise toward shouting.

"You're both part of the problem!" cried one of the ringleaders, and Rachel was unsurprised to see Logan Bowerson once again, apparently having not gotten the message since their last confrontation. She pulled out her phone and dashed off a text to Jackie, then grasped one of the rubies in her pack tight as she reached the group.

"What's going on?" she demanded.

"Fuck off," Logan snapped. "We want all of you out of here."

"Gentlemen, please," Smith shouted, stepping up to Rachel's side between the two groups. "What's going on here?"

"We're trapped in this town with a killer on the loose!" came one cry.

"It's all their fault!"

"We're going to die out here!"

"They brought this on us!"

"Enough!" the doctor roared, and the crowd fell silent for a moment. "You there," he said, pointing at a single man toward the front. One of Robert's loggers, though Rachel had never gotten his name. "Tell me precisely what's going on here."

As the man launched into a rambling speech about devil-worship and witchcraft, Rachel leaned over to whisper to Ryan. He was panting heavily from the strain of keeping himself in that state, but he seemed determined to hold on.

"So you're out now too," she murmured.

"Couldn't be helped," he hissed. "Wasn't gonna let them beat up Nate. That's my job."

"Thank you," she added gratefully, as the crowd continued ranting to the unconvinced reverend. "Backup's on the way."

"Still haven't found her either," he said angrily. "Waited there all fuckin' day."

"It's okay. We'll find her."

"You okay, Natey?" Ryan asked over his shoulder.

"I just want to go home," he answered in a quivering voice. "Please."

"We'll get you home," Rachel said.

Ryan nodded. "I'll fuck up this whole shitty town if I have to."

"Let's not, thank you," Rachel said sharply.

The reverend was trying to reason with the angry crowd "Have any of you witnessed any crime by them yet?"

"Isn't witchcraft a crime?" shouted a voice from the back. Roger Quinton the farmer, Rachel believed. She couldn't quite make out everyone from her crouched position. "Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live!"

"And thou shalt not plant two kinds of seed, but I don't see anyone looking to string you up!" the reverend roared. "Would you really cite scripture to me, Roger?"

He looked suitably shamed, but one of Robert's loggers was quick to take his place. "We've still got three kids murdered at the hands of these monsters, Smith. She says it's being investigated, but she's one of them. How can we trust her?" He glared at Rachel, who rose to take the reverend's side.

"Didn't I help you—" Rachel started.

"Yeah, you did, but what does that mean now? You were still lying to the whole town, weren't you?"

"I vouch for this young woman!" Smith cried. "As I do for her friends and colleagues."

"And you're a nutcase," Logan added, to the snickers of his college friends. The loggers looked less pleased about the insult to the doctor, but they did not break their stance. They remained allies, united in their fear and hatred.

Rachel wasn't sure how to proceed. She had authority among her own people, earned through time and effort, as well as with the mayor and the sheriff—but the common people of Rallsburg didn't recognize her. She was an ambassador at best. If Jackie had arrived at that moment, that might have been the key to defusing the situation—but instead, the next to arrive was the pair Rachel had nearly forgotten about, and potentially the worst possible fuel for the brewing fire.

Cinza and Ruby had followed them into town at apparently a more leisurely pace, and now—seeing Nate in robes and on the ground with a beaten face—they looked ready to throw down. Rachel tried to signal her to back off, but Cinza wasn't about to let one of her own get trampled. Not even Nate Price.

The girl flung her hands forward. Orbs of light appeared in midair surrounding Nate. The entire crowd gasped and took a step back as they shifted into a angry red hue and began to spin wildly in place. Ruby rushed to Nate's side and began to examine his face while Cinza placed herself at Ryan's side, setting her feet wide.

"Explain," she said simply, her voice amplified through magical means. The word rumbled through Rachel's ears as though Cinza were right next to her, like thunder echoing through the hills. Though it was a single word from a small girl before a crowd of lumberjacks, farmers and college students, it was enough to silence the entire street.

"Price boy was threatening to hurt me and mine if I didn't do what he said," said one of the lumberjacks.

"What?" Nate asked, scrambling to his feet finally. "You're making that up!"

Rachel doubted Nate had done anything. The man was a burly giant, and Nate had only been awakened for a couple days. He had nowhere near the strength or skill to even scratch the man, magic or no magic. Anyone with the name Price was just an easy scapegoat for the lumberjack crowd.

"Are you lying?" Cinza asked, as one of the orbs flickered and jumped to begin revolving around her, instead of Nate. It burst into flame. Rachel noted with interest that it gave off neither heat or light of any kind. She marveled at Cinza's finesse animating the things while still standing up to the man. They were pure illusion and couldn't harm anyone, yet she handled them with such ease and theatricality that even Rachel briefly thought the man was in real danger.

"You've been at the heart of all our problems for months, and the Price family for decades longer than that, and now the roads are gone, the train is gone, and people are dead," the man growled, skipping right over Cinza's question. "It's time we saw some justice."

"Justice? This is a mob!" cried Smith, but the crowd was already riled up.

"Justice for Jenny!" came a call from the back. It was Paul Wilson. Rachel knew they were all lost. They had a martyr and a rallying cry now; there was no turning back.

"Get Nate out of here, right now," she told Ryan. He was still panting, but he nodded. He tapped Nate on the shoulder with one of his oversized fists, nearly knocking him over.

Rachel was focused on the crowd, which was ignoring the reverend's attempts to plead with them. "Justice for Jenny!" came the cry, over and over again. Where on earth is Jackie? Rachel thought in vain, but no help was forthcoming.

Cinza took a few steps back, reuniting with Ruby. The red-haired girl looked nervous, fiddling with a metallic stone that hung on a silver necklace. Rachel could barely hear them over the din of the crowd.

"Should I do it?" Ruby whispered.

"No, not yet," Cinza hissed. "This isn't the right time. We don't want to hurt them."

Rachel was about to ask what she meant when they heard a loud smack. The reverend had punched Roger Quinton in the face. The crowd erupted into chaos, the reverend buried beneath a crush of bodies. She smelled blood in the air. It mixed with the sweat and the shouting of men as they piled in. Many were simply punching the nearest body they could find to express their rage.

Rachel turned and fled down the street before she was caught in the melee. Ryan had luckily gotten Nate out already, or she'd have feared for his life. The reverend wasn't at risk of any real damage, she believed—just a bit of a thrashing as the crowd worked out its anger.

She realized belatedly that she hadn't been followed out. Cinza and Ruby were still standing by. The two joined hands, and a howling wind rumbled through the street, buffeting the crowd. The wind left the pair mostly untouched (though Rachel noticed Cinza seemed to be deliberately sending her silver-grey hair flapping dramatically), but it rolled through the group like the burst of a hurricane.

The closest were simply bowled over, tumbling across the ground. Men fell like dominoes. The reverend was in the center of the pile, and managed to struggle to his feet first. Rachel noticed Oscar McKinney in the group as well, apparently having leapt to his defense while she was fleeing. The wind continued to pound at him, though it swerved around the reverend without so much as a hair out of place.

"He's okay!" Rachel shouted at Cinza. She nodded without turning, and suddenly Oscar seemed to be totally unaffected. They both clambered over the flattened group to get out, while the wind continued howling. Soon enough, they'd taken places behind Cinza and Ruby.

Ruby released her hand, collapsing to the ground in a coughing heap. A pile of ash dust cascaded from her palm. Cinza looked like she'd just run several miles, but refused to fall. Rachel hurried to her side, but the doctor was already there to lend her an arm.

"All of you, return to your homes," boomed a loudspeaker. The sheriff had finally arrived, bolting out of her cruiser with a megaphone. "The mayor has issued an immediate curfew starting at sundown. If you do not have legitimate business, return to your homes."

Rachel winced. A curfew wasn't the best move, though it was typical of a mayor trying to get a hold of escalating chaos. It would only breed further resentment, particularly since she didn't expect the curfew to be enforced on herself or Cinza's people.

A few of the men struggling to their feet looked like they might force a fight, but—between Cinza's fierce glare and the sheriff's stern expression—they were giving in for the time being.

"Well, that was a bit of a mess," Smith said, sporting a split lip. He was breathing heavily, but looked quite satisfied with himself.

"Did you really need to punch him?" she asked, while he took out a cloth and dabbed at his lip. "We might have solved this without violence."

"Some men only listen to the fist," the doctor said, shaking his head. "And some men only speak with it!" he added with a grin, which became a wince as his cut pulled open.

"Rachel, what is going on here?" Jackie asked in dismay.

"We've just had our first witch hunt," Rachel answered dejectedly.