The Syndicate - 23. Chapter 23 - Taran

Taran soared through the air in the giddiest of moods. The lights from the city down below glittered like stars, while the warm summer air brought in a melody of peaceful sounds. It was looking to be another quiet evening on patrol, which was almost disappointing. Every nerve in Taran's body felt charged. He needed to find a way to burn off this energy, to do something useful. With an eye on the city center, he rocketed higher into the sky. The winds buffeted around him, responding to his will with the kind of ease that only happened at his most relaxed.

It seemed like a rare occurrence these days. Though Taran would never admit it to anyone, the non-stop pressure was starting to wear on him. Expectations seemed to come from every direction: his parents, extra patrols, the students he pushed harder and harder every training session. He was certain the trainees resented him right about now, but it was all part of the process. They would thank him once they hit the field and were prepared for anything. No one was going to get hurt on his watch.

Then there was the outburst at dinner. Taran hadn't lost control of abilities like that since he was a child. A humiliating lapse, to be sure, and he couldn't help but beat himself up over it. There was too much at stake for Taran to be slipping up, too much that he needed to do. Be a leader, achieve without emotion. That's what was expected of him.

All of his self-doubts had melted away after visiting Ronnie, and Taran was surprised at just how weightless he felt since leaving the house. Their time together had been quiet and peaceful, exactly the balm he needed after dinner with his parents. He had noticed it the night before as well. Ronnie had a strange way of grounding Taran, of smoothing the rough edges of his bad moods. There was an infectious self-assuredness, and when they were alone, Taran found he was able to bring his guard down, if only for a little while. The freedom was frankly intoxicating but left Taran worried that he wasn't bringing enough to the relationship.

"Oh my god, I'm in a relationship," he thought.

The realization left a flutter in his chest. Taran had fought against anything that resembled romantic attraction for so long. It had always been an unthinkable situation. Yet here he was, allowing himself to get close to someone else. And… it was beautiful, at least after the panic had receded. Things were bound to get complicated in ways that Taran knew he wasn't prepared for. Namely, how he and Ronnie were going to be together without anyone finding out. It was one thing, to be honest with himself. Other people knowing was another matter entirely.

There was no reason to tell anyone. It was all too new, after all. Taran had no idea where things were headed, and while he really liked Ronnie, who was to say he wouldn't get dumped in a few weeks once the excitement wore off? Rather than totally upending his life, it was better to take things slow and see where they went.

Taran's earpiece hummed, knocking him back to reality. He activated it with a tap.

"Silver Cyclone."

"Hiya, SC," Maya's voice came over the headset. "We may have a situation, and I need you to check it out."

"Finally! I'm ready for anything, just point me in the right direction."

"A silent alarm was triggered at one of our old Track and Trace locations. The owner's a private collector and known associate of the Magic Division. I need you to head over there and make sure everything's ok."

Maya relayed the address, and Taran took off like a rocket toward his destination. His mind reeled with the possibilities of what he might find. The last Track and Trace mission had been an utter failure, and he couldn't help but wonder if the same mysterious person was involved. Taran relished the opportunity to redeem himself. On the other hand, magic still made him nervous, and the prospect of going in alone without another magic-user was daunting.

Taran touched down on the roof of an office building not far from downtown. The traffic noise below was a steady hum, but he couldn't pick up anything else that sounded out of the ordinary. He entered the service stairway and found the correct floor. The door was already propped open, sending Taran to high alert. It was unlikely that he was alone.

As he crept inside, Taran was surprised to find not a corporate office layout, but a vast room filled with artifacts. Maya had told him that this associate was an eccentric collector. She had money to burn and spent her immense wealth on a wide array of antiquities. As one would expect, she had come across her fair share of enchanted items. Fortunately for the Syndicate, the collector had little interest in actually using any of them.
"I'd describe her as an arcane hoarder," Maya had said. "It's hella weird, but we're just glad she's on our side. She could be causing a lot of problems if she wanted to."

Taran immediately identified a problem. He had no idea what might be missing or what a possible intruder could be looking for. Portraits and framed documents of every size covered the chalky white walls, while a huge urn and statues stood in a line at the far end of the room. Stretching the length of the space was a series of long tables covered in miscellaneous artifacts—daggers with glinting jeweled scabbards, pocket watches, a feathered hat. There was no particular logic to the organization that Taran could determine. His eyes quickly scanned over the collection, hoping that if something was missing, it's absence would be readily apparent.

A thread of air pulled away from Taran, and he instantly sensed another presence. Someone was moving around, perhaps in one of the adjacent rooms. He strode to a nearby door, straining his ears for any sound. A quiet shuffling could be heard. Taran reached behind him and unclipped a heavy cylinder from the back of his belt. With a quick snap, the ends of the cylinder telescoped out to form a sturdy staff. Taking a breath, he kicked at the door.

Taran entered the room with a crash and barely had time to duck as a surge of heat went sailing over his head. Acrid smoke stung his eyes, and he whirled around as another blaze sailed over his shoulder. Taran swung the end of his staff toward the middle of the room, sending out a blast of air that cleared the black smoke obscuring the space. As it dissipated, he caught the sight of a man in the corner. He was tall and pale, with dark hair that hung over the side of his face.

"Stop right there!" Taran called out as he slipped into a defensive stance.

The stranger pushed the hair away from his eyes with a sigh. "Well, this is a misfortune. I hoped that if anyone was to show up, it would at least be one of the interesting heroes."

"Sorry to disappoint," Taran threw another blast of air forward. It hurtled over a full desk, scattering the books that were strewn across it. The man shifted around the buffering wind and took a step closer. He opened both hands, revealing bright white-blue flames. A stream of fire streaked across the room. This time, Taran blocked it with his staff, a wall of wind dissolving the light into smoke.

The man dropped his hands and clicked his tongue. "There's really no need for all of that," he chided. "It turns out that she didn't have what I'm looking for, anyway."

"Who are you, and what are you doing here." Taran's voice was calm, despite his nerves. Something about this guy just wasn't sitting right with him. Perhaps it was the harsh fluorescent light cutting through the smoke, but the stranger didn't appear entirely solid. Regular criminals tended to panic when a superhero showed up, but this man's attitude was far too casual. It put Taran on edge.

"I represent something the world hasn't seen in years, and cannot possibly comprehend." The man snarled, suddenly lunging forward. Taran responded with another air blast as he snapped his staff outward. Sliding around the attack, the man was on top of Taran in the blink of an eye.

Taran's back slammed against the wall as the man held a forearm tight against his throat, pinning him down. The stranger's shadow grey eyes pierced through Taran. Despite his mask, he felt exposed. A shiver ran up his spine.

"Now, that's quite enough, hero," the man spoke in a teasing whisper. Taran tried to place his accent. It sounded vaguely Irish, but he couldn't be sure. "It's been a long day, and I'm in a terribly bad mood. Keep shooting your little puffs of air at me, and I'll snap you like a twig."

Taran knew the threat was genuine. Despite the teasing and the bored demeanor, this man, whoever he was, held back a tremendous amount of power. Taran could feel it rolling off of him in dark waves.

"What do you want?" he croaked out, the stranger's elbow still firmly at his neck.

"You'll see soon enough, I can promise that," The man put a hand to Taran's face. "I'm sure this isn't the last we'll see of each other. You were just as persistent at the museum."

Taran's eyes went wide. This was the person they had been looking for, who had stolen the Jewel of Katar. He was clearly looking for more artifacts, but why?

"I'm taking you in," Taran said with a grimace. It was a hollow statement, given his predicament.

The man laughed, a high lilt that rang in the empty room. "Oh, are you now? Well, that would be something". His body rose with heat, the tips of his fingers that touched Taran's face flared, nearly burning him. The man's body tensed, and Taran braced for a heavy blow.

With a roar of fire, the thief stepped back and hurled himself to the far end of the room. Taran tried not to gulp for air as the pressure on his neck was suddenly released.

"Stay out of my way, hero," The danger still evident in the man's voice. "I won't be so charitable next time."

A blinding surge of pale blue fire engulfed the man, growing brighter and hotter before snuffing out. The only evidence that remained was a charred mark on the tiled floor.