Thankful for Trudie distracting Jane, I began to sneak away, just as she looked up.
“Oh, almost forgot. Don’t forget that you have a meeting later today with the…Chairman.”
Jane couldn’t help but sneer at the title. A rare show of her actual emotions. I didn’t blame her. She had almost won that coveted position. Now, it was held by the last person who had been expected to win it. Riaan Haggenort. A positively pathetic individual who had won by default as Jane was disqualified and Radebe had been shot on stage.
I nodded, reluctantly, knowing better than to argue with someone whose entire job had been arguing. Well, that and form filling.
I finally managed to escape her and Conrad before disappearing into the isolation of my office and home. It was quieter on the second floor and for that I was grateful. Until Treth appeared and interrupted my solitude.
“You aren’t keen on meeting this Haggenort fellow,” Treth stated, unnecessarily matter of fact.
“Am I that obvious?”
“Maybe not to others, but don’t forget that I’ve been in your head for…how long now?”
“I don’t know. Seems forever. And it’s all been torture!” I emphasised the final word and then waited for his response.
Disappointingly, he didn’t even give me so much as a snort of mild amusement.
“You must not forget, Kat, that you are a paragon. A hero. That doesn’t just mean fighting evildoers. It means maintaining a good working relationship with the ruler.”
“You know how I feel about rulers and authority, Mr Concord.”
“That’s not my sur…ugh, don’t distract me.”
I grinned. Victory! Well, almost. Treth continued lecturing.
“Your anarchism aside, it’s imperative to get along with those in charge. Maybe we can avoid ever having another debacle like your license being taken away. Or having the police trying to arrest you.”
“Really? That was just one or two times! And it was fun.”
“Excuse me, but I’m quite certain that if you die, I die completely. So please don’t coax any trigger-happy law enforcement into putting you down.”
“You don’t want to die, ghostie? Wouldn’t dying mean more time you could spend with your lovey-dovey?”
My jab must not have been that funny, as Treth frowned.
“That’s not how death works, Kat. You are a special case. Spiritual energy flows more consistently and strongly around you. Without you, I am certain I would never be able to see Gorgo again. Let alone speak to her. But even if that weren’t the case…I don’t want you to die.”
Treth said the last bit with an unmistakable hint of sadness.
“Getting sentimental on me, old friend?” I asked, by way of trying to lighten the mood.
“Yes,” he answered, simply. That didn’t lighten anything at all. Drat!
I sighed. “Fine! I’ll pretend to enjoy my time with this glorified secretary.”
Treth smiled sadly but nodded triumphantly.
“It’s good for business, Kat.”
“Since when have you cared about business?”
It was Treth’s turn to laugh.
“Since you corrupted me. Now, sign Jane’s forms. When she lectures you, I have to listen as well.”
Rich of him to be condemning lecturing!
Chapter 4.
Business
I rode my new motorcycle to the Council Building in Old Town. I’d long since lost count of which motorcycle this was. Hope City was rife with two things. Monsters and criminals. And both had a propensity to rid me of my primary method of transportation. But, a dozen monster heads usually came up to the same price as a new motorcycle. And I had definitely lost count of how many monsters I’d slain.
As I pulled into a parking space near the Council Building, an aide spotted me. I knew this because their knees buckled, slowing them down as they sprinted towards me. I had dismounted my bike and taken off my helmet by the time the aide reached me.
“Last Light!” the aide croaked. His looks did not match his behaviour. If he wasn’t currently pale faced and grovelling, I would have pegged him as the type of guy to win student council elections. A blonde preppy type with a strong jawline. But, right now, he looked like a sycophant in some sort of cult. Well, in a city that worshipped a titan that had almost destroyed it once before, we were prone to odd forms of hero-worship.
“Drummond is fine,” I waved the title aside, making my way towards the entrance gate. The aide managed to outpace my stride, sweating buckets.
“Oh no, La…Drummond. There is a special reserved parking for you behind the gates. No need to park on the street!”
I looked at the parking space. Sure, it was accessible from the street, but I wouldn’t say it was ON it.
“It’s fine! Really.”
“But…”
I sighed. “I’m already parked. And I’m sure that the City’s finest have quelled the crime rate enough that I can park my bike for an hour and not have it stolen.”
The aide looked close to arguing but relented, following me inside.
Like most Hope City residents, I had travelled past the Council Buildings a few times in my life. But, besides visiting its old parliament halls on a field trip, I had seldom been inside the building proper. And had definitely not had the opportunity to peruse its labyrinth of central offices.
The Council Building was an old structure. Very much pre-Cataclysm. And it was dripping with the dual prestige of age and disappointing status as a government building. As an historian and anarchist, I was torn.
I stopped at the foot of the building and examined its whitewashed walls and towering columns. A metal bust of Adam Dawi, Hope City’s most decorated and successful Chairperson, dominated the plaza at the foot of the stairs. Dawi was a politician, so I didn’t like him much, but he had, very possibly, been assassinated by the Conclave. So, he couldn’t be that bad.
“Shy, Last Light?” Treth chided, emphasising the title mockingly. He loved the title but knew that I found the moniker a bit pretentious. Well, any moniker. I shouldn’t be hero-worshiped just for doing my job.
I eyed my ghostly companion subtly. While many of the Crusaders knew about my spectral companion, Treth was still a secret. I didn’t want to attract any more notoriety!
“Chairperson Haggenort is expecting you, Ms Drummond,” the aide said, pulling me out of my contemplation. I was pleased to hear my actual name and not the title. At least it was just a single title, now. Before I defeated Loviatar, I had collected a bunch of nicknames. Flamewalker, Part-Time Monster Hunter (a bit outdated now) and Voidleaper. Last Light wasn’t any better but, at least, it meant I didn’t have to memorise all the mishmash of words people wanted to use to address me.
“I’d hope he’s expecting me,” I teased. “He set up the meeting.”
The aide didn’t seem particularly amused as he guided me inside. Beyond the front door was a security checkpoint. Metal detectors, scanning crystals, and a sprinkler that could spray out heated demanzite if a mage decided to get a bit aggressive. I didn’t see much point in a checkpoint such as this. If someone truly wanted to do harm to someone in this building, they would find a way. This checkpoint basically just stopped stationary theft. And seeing that everything here was taxpayer funded, it wasn’t so much theft as a tax return.