Chapter 3

Kyle glared at the screen of his phone as the incoming call from his mother took over the place the one from Anna had just held. Whereas Anna’s image was a cute little cartoonish picture of a snow cone, his mother’s well, it was just one of the more epic shots of her that someone had taken. He wasn’t sure if it was a captured image from video footage or if someone just happened to be that lucky. But it was just about one of the most epic things he’d ever seen in his life.

The image Kyle used in his phone book was one of her in her full-powered exoskeleton armor. Her magical wings spread behind her with her lance raised and ready to fire. She was ringed with power in all the glory of divine wrath that her patron gifted her with. His mother looked like the most badass anime warrior goddess come to life. His mother, a warlock of the Archangel Michael. Known throughout the world as one of the most devastating forces in existence.

A warrior patron for a warrior woman.

Normally, Kyle was so proud when he looked at that photo. Because his mother was amazing. Today the image of her mid-attack represented the darker side of being one of her children. The expectations that everyone else placed on them to live up to her greatness.

And the teeny tiny size of the picture on the screen did it no justice at all. He scoffed, not bothering to sing along with the song playing as his ringtone. It was no longer amusing him. His mom had messed up. Fine. He’d have to talk to her eventually. So, he slid his finger over the button to answer his phone for the third time that morning.

“You promised.” That was how he answered the call. The cold flat tone of his voice trembled with anger, and he had to stop before he said anything he’d regret. On the other end of the line, Camina Watkins, The Harbinger of Dawn, The Light Bringer, The Morning Star, THE Valkyrie, The Last Sight You’d Ever See, The Last Resort, The Last Line, sighed as she heard her son’s tone of voice.

“So, that’s how it’s going to go.” It was more statement than question.

“You promised they were going to lay off of Anna.” The young man continued doggedly. If it had been himself, he might have capitulated and let himself be pressured, but for his little sister...NO!

“You promised that they were going to stop pressuring her to take Michael’s pact. You promised she’d be allowed to choose her own patron if she ever chose to become a warlock. She doesn’t need to take a patron. Anna’s got enough natural magic that she doesn’t need a pact to be a magic user.”

He kept his voice to a low growl and glared off into the park, watching pedestrians on their way while he took the time to have the inevitable conversation. He knew he was the only one who would do it too. Once again, he heard his mother’s sigh but her voice when it came was steel.

“First of all, what went to print wasn’t what I was shown and approved of. Secondly, I’m just a soldier. I couldn’t have prevented this even if I had known they’d gone this way with it. And thirdly, everyone, and I literally mean every person on the entire planet knows that Anna has been offered a divine patron.” Her voice dripped with scorn at the obvious.

"The angels put a God damned star in the sky over the hospital when she was born. It doesn’t have to be Michael or even one of the angels, but that doesn’t change the fact that the offer stands. That the offer will always stand. I can’t change that!”

“You could remind people that she’s just a kid and she’s not ready –” Kyle never got to finish his sentence.

“Not ready? Not ready?” For the first time in the conversation, Camina’s voice began to rise with anger. "Samantha entered her pact at thirteen. You? Not much older. I was burning monsters with the power of an archangel when I was ten. My entire family has been powerful military assets for centuries. Centuries Kyle. I’m literally called The Last fucking Line! You know what that’s of?” Kyle wanted to turn around and throw his phone at the wall he was leaning against, but instead, he let the word come from between his gritted teeth as his mother spoke at the same time.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Defense.” The word was sullen as he said it, but fiery in his mother’s tirade.

“Defense!” She paused and lowered her voice. "My superiors, they look at the history of our family, they look at me aging, and they are freaking out. Have you ever seen a five-star general have a panic attack and an existential crisis because I don’t have an ‘heir? There is no one in our country at my level to replace me. Not one of my older children has chosen to be an actual Warlock despite taking warlock pacts with fairly powerful patrons.”

Here Kyle thought he might be able to argue, but his mother wouldn’t let him. They both knew why she didn’t have a proverbial heir.

“I know Kyle. I know that Samantha isn’t cut out for it and her pact item is too unstable and her patron too bloodthirsty even if she were willing. I know your brother has a peaceful patron even if Asclepius is powerful. I know! I also know that you are capable of so much more even if no one else does. But I also know that, Anna. Is. Special. New-stars-in-the-heavens kind of special. And the whole world knows that too. There’s only so much interference I can run, and I know that I’m failing her as a mother. I know. And I am sorry for that.”

She finally stopped long enough for Kyle to get a word in edgewise. But she’d already said out loud the thing he was going to imply quietly without ever outright saying. She was failing Anna as a mother. Camina Watkins was a soldier first, a warlock second, a wife third, and a mother last.

That was a quote from her official biography. She didn’t say that about herself. It was something the author had said. Kyle pushed down the lump that had been forming in his throat as his mother waited patiently for his response. Finally, he spoke, and his voice was only slightly hoarse.

“Will...” He coughed to clear his throat and continued quickly. “Will you just make sure you tell Anna that?” He pleaded. "Not all the other bits that will make her feel guilty and pressured, but the part about being sorry?”

“Yeah.” Camina gave a rueful laugh. "I think I can do that.”

“In person.” Kyle admonished, as he rubbed something from his eyes. "Not a text. At least a voice call.”

“Yes. I pro –” But Kyle cut her off before she could finish her sentence.

“Don’t promise!” He felt like a jerk, but it was a well-known fact in their family that their mother couldn’t be relied upon to keep some promises. "Just do it.”

“Alright.” She was quiet; ashamed with the knowledge of shared history as to why he spoke that way. “I better let you get to work before you’re late. Lots of love baby boy.” With that, she hung up and Kyle puffed out his cheeks with a huge sigh of relief. He loved his mom, but these conversations...sometimes she made him feel like he was the parent.

He made sure the call had disconnected and locked the screen on his phone before shoving it into a pocket of his robes. Kyle looked down at himself with that same assessing self-loathing he felt whenever someone tried to ‘guide’ Anna into being their mom’s replacement. It didn’t matter that as a warlock of an archangel Camina Watkins was going to live and be a viable military asset for a good long while yet. It mattered because if Kyle had chosen a different path, maybe Anna wouldn’t have had to deal with those fools at all.

Yeah. When other people looked at Kyle, they saw an academic warlock. Someone who took a patron to help them gain knowledge more than magic. But what if...No! The young man shook his head and straightened the strap of his messenger bag over his shoulder. No. He’d chosen the Archivist and knowledge, and magic for magic’s sake. Knowledge was power after all.

Another ringtone came from the phone in his pocket, and he pulled it out again. It was just his alarm, telling him work started in fifteen minutes. His shoulders slumped as he trudged out of the shadows. Sunlight glinting off the natural blonde highlights in his light brown hair. He was just an average apprentice warlock – not even a full warlock like his older siblings – working an average job as a museum intern.

Nothing more. Nothing less.

Well, a little more. He also had some wizard powers.

Not nearly as spectacular as all the other members of his family.