Myths and Gargoyles by Jamie Hawke (interesting books to read in english txt) 📕

magic would be much more likely to be in a position of power than those without. Hell, the idea of doing things in life I had never thought likely before was just starting to dawn on me. Fly into space and use my power to not get sick, to control aspects of heat if there were issues with the space shuttle… I don’t know. It all seemed so possible, though.

Would that be an abuse of my power? That was a question I’d have to address at some point, but at the moment I was too busy being excited to care. Steph had curled up next to me, hand in mine, staring out the window.

“You okay?” I whispered.

She nodded.

“He’s not…” I glanced up at the driver, then lowered my voice even more. “Not… with the enemy, right?”

She shrugged. “Not that I know of.”

“What, then?”

“It’s… me.” She motioned to her dress. “This isn’t me. Going to a senator’s house? Definitely not me.”

“It is now.”

Her short inhalation told me there was more to this sense of unease than she would be willing to tell me in the car with the driver listening. My thoughts were tarnished by a bit of a blizzard of emotions. On the one hand, I had grown up without much money. I was the type to run around with friends even worse off than myself, often getting into trouble. My circle had never looked fondly on the law, and even less so on those who had money. The rich always stayed rich while they kept the poor down, or at least we saw it that way. I had partially abandoned that way of thinking as I matured, and even more so when I found out about the opportunity to live with my aunt… er, Gertrude. Odd, how one stops hating those in a higher class when reaching that class oneself. But, this was different. My guess was that this senator was both rich and powerful, and that was another level completely.

Then there was the brainwashing from my parents, always going on about this or that corrupt politician. As far as they would be concerned, I was being driven into the mouth of the beast. A beast we should all understand, but a beast nonetheless.

I glanced out the window again, unable to see my team but able to sense them in a weird mental sonar sense. That helped put me at ease, so I leaned back, eyed the increasingly large houses, and watched as we drove through the gates of a Tudor-style house with brick near the entryway, white elsewhere mixed with dark wood beams. To say it was a dream house was an understatement. While I had been in love with my aunt’s house the moment I had laid eyes on it, this was the next level. A yard sprawled out within the compound, large enough for several more houses to fit in, with tall hedges along the edge and rose bushes up alongside the house.

Letting us out at the driveway, the driver took off. The fact that my vehicle—or rather, the one we had taken from Gertrude’s place—was parked back near the French Embassy and we were now stranded was disheartening to say the least, considering the fact that I didn’t know what I was getting into, or even where I was.

A low whistle sounded, and I turned my head to see the shape of wings atop the house, almost hidden. I gave a return whistle, to let them know I was aware of their presence, very thankful, then took Steph’s arm and led her up to the door. It opened before we had the chance to knock, and an old man in a cardigan stood there, smiling with closed lips. He had short, white hair on the sides of his head, nothing on top, and wore brown, horn-rimmed glasses that complimented his dark complexion.

This was the man. Senator Funai, in the flesh. And behind him, Galahad appeared. Not stepped into view, but basically appeared as if summoned, as with Steph and her wraith knights. I shared a look with her, then turned back to them and said, “Hey.”

Senator Funai stepped aside and motioned us in. “Welcome.”

His home was pure white as far as the walls and furniture were concerned, with large potted plants, silver drapes along tall windows, and odd paintings of misshapen nudes. When he saw me eyeing what at first appeared to be a tree but then I figured had to be a penis, he cleared his throat and gestured to the side room where some couches awaited.

“Excuse me, where are my manners.” He approached Steph and shook her hand. “Greg Funai.”

“Stephanie,” she replied with a curt nod, briefly taking his hand before turning off to go sit on one of the couches. The senator and I followed.

“And your team outside?” the senator asked with a wink, eyes on me as I sat.

“I don’t know what you’re referring to,” I replied with a pleasant smile—or as pleasant as I could muster, considering that he had let me know he was aware of my secret weapon.

“Regardless, I’m glad to see that my people brought you here to me safely.” He paused, as Galahad leaned in, and apparently communicating, although no words were shared. “Is that so?” He turned back to me. “I understand you had some trouble? I apologize for that.”

“Nothing we couldn’t handle.”

“Still.” He gave me an appraising glance, then handed me a glass of port. “I assume you’re old enough to drink?”

“Actually, no, sir.” I set the glass aside, and his eyes followed it, staying there momentarily.

“Not even old enough to share a glass of port with, and yet… so much on your shoulders.” His eyes rose to meet mine again. “How is it, son, that you bear this burden?”

I looked to Steph for help. She shrugged.

“It would seem,” I said, “that I was either born with the latent skills, or else I was chosen based on my magical abilities, and in part I’ve