A few days later, Hikaru received an e-mail from an unknown address.
Dear Mr. Hiyama, it read, we are the White Cloak, an organization fighting for the continued independence of the Light Mage community. We have an influence on education and politics, but we also conduct research with the help of extraordinary mages similar to yourself.
You may be wondering why we reached out to you. It has come to our attention that you show signs of Spectral Magic—the ability to use more than one type of magic, possibly even the whole magic spectrum. We as the White Cloak are planning a study on the effects of Spectral Magic and its possible uses to further our cause, and for that we would like to request our assistance.
The full details of the study will be revealed later, but trust us that you will be adequately compensated for your help. Remember that the White Cloak will not forget your service in the fight against the Dark Mage invasion, and you will have influential people backing you up for as long as you live.
If you have any questions, please reach out to us. We look forward to your cooperation.
Belladonna Snow
White Cloak spokeswoman
Hikaru frowned at the screen, wondering what to make of it.
Probably nothing, he thought. More likely than not, this was simply a spam e-mail he shouldn't bother responding to. After all, this sounded absurd already—Spectral Magic? A study? Compensation? Hikaru had read enough warnings to know this was either an attempted identity theft or a front for human trafficking.
Unless—
Spectral Magic. The ability to use the whole magic spectrum. Was that what it was? To Hikaru, magic had always been black and white and every shade of gray. As a child he had brought it up to his family, but their reactions had been…strange. His sister Mahiru had only stared at him in puzzlement; his parents had exchanged a worried look and told him he'd inherited his great-grandmother's oddities, and that she had also perceived magic in different shades. And then they had told him to never bring it up to anyone, or people would get the wrong idea.
So Hikaru had shelved it, written it off as yet another one of the things about him that people found weird. He'd had no one to ask. Sometimes he thought he had found someone with the same ability, but he had never known how to approach them.
And now, these people…they seemed to know something about him that he didn't. How they knew, he had no idea. But maybe, just maybe, they had answers. Maybe they could finally explain what was so strange about him.
He thought briefly about writing a response, but his vocabulary wouldn't cooperate today, and writing adult e-mails had never come easily to him in the first place. But there was a phone number at the bottom of the e-mail, and after a moment's hesitation he gathered his courage and called it.
There was a long, long pause, interrupted only by the dial tone. But just when Hikaru had been about to hang up, there was a click in the line, and a female voice said, "Hello?"
Calm and warm, Hikaru thought. His favorite kind of voice. He liked this woman already. "Hello," he said a little stiffly. "My name is Hiya—Hikaru Hiyama," he corrected himself. Given name first. "I have a question about your mail."
"Oh, Mr. Hiyama, was it?" She pronounced his name perfectly, her voice bright with recognition. "Yes, I remember. How can I help you?"
Hikaru gathered himself and swallowed. He had prepared his questions in his head, but now that he had to actually say them, the words in his mind were all muddled. In the end, what came out of his mouth was, "You know what I am?"
The woman laughed, and Hikaru cringed at himself. "Not for sure, but we have a suspicion," she said. "We've heard that you can talk to animals?"
Hikaru perked up. "Yes," he said. "That is connected?"
"Oh, definitely, Mr. Hiyama. You see, the ability to talk to animals is also known as speaking in tongues…"
Speaking in tongues. Wasn't that what the snake had said at Finnian's house?
"And it's tied directly to Dark Magic," the woman continued. "Only Dark Mages can speak in tongues…and other people who can use Dark Magic."
Hikaru gave a low hum. So that was why. For all his life he had wondered why no one around him could do what he did, and now he had his explanation. It was because they were Light Mages, and he wasn't.
"But why," he asked, "am I different?"
"That's what we're trying to find out," she replied. "We suspect it's a genetic mutation. Your cooperation could really help us, you know."
Hikaru hummed again. "Thank you," he said. "I'll think about it. But…"
"Yes?" the woman asked kindly.
"I'm a—I'm not eighteen yet," Hikaru said, trying and failing to remember the word minor. "Do I need to ask my parents?"
He could hear the smile in her voice. "Don't worry about that," she said. "We'll sort it all out for you. All you need to do is let us study your magic; everything else will be taken care of."
That sounded…good. Very good. Maybe even a little too good.
He could practically hear the voice of his grandmother: If something seems too good to be true, it usually is. There had to be some kind of drawback. He just had no idea how to ask about it without badly offending the nice person on the phone.
"Okay," he said. "I'll think about it. Thank you."
"You're welcome," she replied. "We look forward to hearing from you again, Mr. Hiyama. If you have any more questions, just call again anytime."
Hikaru said goodbye to her and hung up.
He wanted his answers, but…not at all cost. He wasn't agreeing to anything until he knew exactly what he was getting into.
Maybe it would help to know what this White Cloak thing was, anyway.
~ ~ ~
Finnian was angry at the TV again. Or rather, the news on TV.
"Dad, did you hear?" he called from the breakfast table into the kitchen. "The White Cloaks are endorsing Ellison! Are you still supporting him now?"
His father emerged from the kitchen with a cup of freshly-brewed coffee in his hand, looking altogether unfazed. "I know," he said. "I heard yesterday."
It was almost too much to hope, but Finnian asked anyway. "Have you changed your mind then?"
"Why should I change my mind?" his father replied. "He still stands for the right cause, and he has good chances to win. Lightwood is a good leader in peace times, but he's too soft for a crisis."
"If Lightwood's too soft for a crisis," Finnian remarked, "Yellison is too incompetent."
His father sighed. "He is a pompous idiot," he admitted. "But he won't be ruling alone—he'll have his staff around him, competent advisors who make up for his…Ellison-ness. It won't be that bad."
"Sure it won't." Finnian rolled his eyes. "A pompous idiot who only knows how to talk about himself, has gone bankrupt multiple times, and only listens to people when they agree with him. Oh yeah, and is also backed by a murderous hate cult now. What could possibly go wrong?"
"The White Cloaks aren't that bad," his father said calmly.
Finnian almost knocked over his juice. "Say that again," he said, "but slowly."
"They get a bad reputation." His father wasn't meeting his gaze, his expression strange, revealing just enough emotion to be completely unreadable. "There are a few bad apples, I know, but overall they aren't nearly as violent as people think."
Finnian laughed humorlessly. "First you say Hellison's not all bad, and now the White Cloaks!" he burst out. "I'm sure they're all perfectly civilized people. What's a little attempted murder? Some attacks in broad daylight? It happens in the best of families, am I right?"
"Don't give me attitude, young man!"
"Oh, I'm not giving you attitude. I only have my opinions!" Finnian shot back, his annoyance rising. "Or maybe you wouldn't call them attitude if they were a little more murderous?"
"Finnian!" his father exclaimed, and Finnian could pinpoint the moment he had gone too far. Not that he regretted it.
There was an awkward silence, then his father softened again. "I know you don't like them," he said gently. "But a few bad apples—"
"—spoil the bunch," Finnian completed the sentence. "That's how the saying goes. And in this case, a few bad apples can kill a lot of innocent people very dead."
His father frowned, but before he could say anything, Finnian had already taken his plate and glass to finish his breakfast somewhere else.
~ ~ ~
Hikaru sprung the topic on Bianca the next day. "What is the White Cloak?"
Bianca stared at him for a moment, wide-eyed, as if she couldn't believe he had just asked that. "Why?" she asked. "Did you have a run-in with them? Did they cause you any trouble?"
He shook his head. "Who are they?"
"A violent hate group," she said bluntly. "They're not happy with just excluding Dark Mages—they don't want them to exist at all. Just lately they've been going around threatening Let Us In protestors and beating them up. Some people have almost died."
Hikaru shuddered. His grandmother had been right; there was always a catch. "I see," he said.
Bianca furrowed her brow. "Why do you want to know?" she asked. "Did something happen?"
Hikaru hesitated for a moment, wondering if it was safe to tell her. Then he reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and held it out towards her to show her the e-mail.
She read it, frowned, then read it again. "This is creepy," she said, her eyes glued to the screen. "I don't even understand half of it, but…you're not planning to accept it, right?"
He had been, Hikaru thought, until he'd learned who—what—these people were. "What do you think?" he asked.
"I think," Bianca replied, "you should reject them. See how they're not telling you what they're planning to do in their 'studies'? From what I know of them, it can't be good. Whatever they learn from studying you will probably get used to kill people."
Hikaru tensed, overwhelmed by the sudden urge to take his magic and hold it close to his chest, protecting it from anyone who wanted to use it for evil. "I don't want that," he said.
"I'm glad," she answered, her expression softening. "I don't think you would've come out of this safe anyway. If you can really…" She lowered her voice to a whisper. "If you can really use Dark Magic, they'll see you as their enemy too. They're just trying to use you."
Hikaru tried to imagine the kind-voiced lady on the phone harboring bad intentions, seeing him as a tool to make weapons, an enemy to be destroyed. The idea seemed impossible—but then again, when had he ever been good at figuring out people's intentions? He trusted Bianca. If she was convinced these people were up to no good, she was probably right.
In any case, he wasn't about to risk it.
Giving a firm nod, he offered Bianca a tiny smile. "Thank you."
"Happy to help," she said gently. "Oh, and Hikaru?"
He looked up.
"I won't tell anyone about your magic," she said with a finger to her lips. "Don't worry."
~ ~ ~
The night before the competition, Hikaru had made himself comfortable in his dorm room when his phone rang.
He took a look at the screen, saw that it was an unknown number, and declined the call. But he had barely gone back to the comic book he'd been reading when his phone rang a second time.
Covering his ears, he tried to ignore it, but it kept ringing. And ringing. And ringing.
All right. He might not be in the mood to talk to people, but this was annoying. If he had to pick up for them to shut up, it was a sacrifice he was willing to make.
"Hello," he said irritably.
"Good evening, Mr. Hiyama," the nice woman from the White Cloak said through the phone. "I hope I'm not disturbing you?"
"You are," Hikaru said bluntly.
"Oh—well—all the more reason to make this quick. Have you had time to think on our offer yet? We'd really like to know if—"
Hikaru answered before she could finish. "I don't want to."
There was a startled pause. "Really?" the woman said at last. "May I ask why?"
"Because," Hikaru replied, "your group hurts people and I don't like it."
Another awkward pause. "I don't know what you heard about us, but I assure you—"
"I don't care."
"Mr. Hiyama, I'm sure we can discuss this—"
"No," Hikaru cut her off again. "I don't like you. I don't trust you. I don't want to help you."
"…As you wish."
The woman's tone changed. All warmth vanished from her voice, leaving only a cold, threatening edge like a knife held to his throat.
"We aren't giving up on you, Hikaru Hiyama," she said quietly. "If you won't cooperate on your own, we have our ways. But for now—you have a competition tomorrow, don't you?"
Hikaru didn't answer. The woman didn't seem to expect him to, because after a moment she spoke again, a joyless smile in her voice.
"Good luck."
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