The Oaks Order

When the three of us were secluded, the Grandmaster stood in front of us and gave me a serious look.

An outstanding woman in her fifties, she had drastic, pale lips that appeared out of place on an oppositely round face and chubby body.

I had not had much communication with her since I had gone to Ceura two years ago; I did my nicest to circumvent the E∴E∴ in my recent life.

"What is going on? Why was not I notified that my parents were arriving in the States?"

I glanced between the two of them. Ralph Superior spoke first.

"We did not notify you because we did not know."

"They have not called you?"

He wiggled his head.

"No. Nothing has altered. You understand that when all of you went into obscuring I decided not to call your parents, even though our protectors. As far as the councils go, I am sure Helene and Fred have disguised themselves competently by now. There is no way to validate their personality on the video coverage. The FBI will assign a cursory investigation and then proceed on to something more critical when the slander dies down. You should not bother about that."

I nodded. He was presumably right.

"Right now," he put in.

"We have larger dilemmas than the FBI."

"Oaks," I said in a soft voice.

"They remember, don't they?"

Established out of San Diego, the Oaks Order was a substitute occult association that showed off a membership of five thousand.

Though the E∴E∴ could declare only about two thousand members, we were aged and more special. The two associations were the enormous and most reputable of all the multinational esoteric declarations, but always butted heads on ideology and had a long record of fighting—with both civil cases and private supernatural sabotage.

So when the Oaks commander pointed the finger at my parents and wailed "murderers," no one in the E∴E∴ was shocked; Oaks would do anything to humiliate us.

The Grandmaster intersected her legs and replied.

"All the institutions realize, but Oaks has carried the lead on this, as usual. Your parents will have to do some deft manoeuvring to get away from their spies … but that is not why we wish to speak to you."

"It is not?"

Ralph Superior place his hand on top of mine.

"Gwen, honey, the Oaks general is requesting that we turn your parents over to them for retribution."

"Retribution? For violations, they did not commit?"

"Yes, but that is of no significance at this point. It took us a long period to settle and make peace with all the other declarations after the massacres—especially Oaks. Now that they realize we lied to them about your parents being deceased, they have leagued together with the lower declarations and they have all approved that they need reimbursement for their … losses."

"Losses? What did Oaks lose? No one was even murdered in their injunction. And since when do any of the declarations team together for anything?"

"Since now, I presume. Oaks are the largest and most powerful, so they are the ones selected by minor injunctions to bend muscles. They have given us a requirement. We have two weeks to hand over your parents to the Oaks Order in a particular parliament they are organizing, or they are proclaiming a magical battle against us."

My chest compressed. Occult communities have a propensity to conduct outside the law. I had not survived a magical battle myself, but I would read records of preceding conflicts.

Each order has its military of types, an elite organization of magicians specialist in mustering and regulating god forms and Porphyric elder demons—the great, bad eternal kind.

Historical demons that could be confined to kill on mandate … like the demon that someone had mustered seven years ago, that murdered the three rival magicians, whose deaths were nailed on my parents.

The Black Hotel slayings comprised three diverse murders that transpired over six weeks. The first massacre was the chief of a minor hermetic declaration in England.

The second was the chief of a related declaration in Boston, and the third was the chief of a barely bigger declaration based in Portland.

The fourth and last attempted slaughter of the commander of the Oaks Order transpired in San Diego. Only, that operation flunked.

"Oaks has offered us one other alternative," the Grandmaster mumbled as she fiddled with a tiny charm that drooped from a lengthy silver chain around her neck.

"Yes?" I persuaded.

"Give you up as a contribution for your parents' plausible sins." Shocked, I stiffened and spruced up in my seat.

"Sweetheart, we would never do that," Ralph Superior convinced me, reducing his stares at the Grandmaster.

"You are far too important to our organization."

"Is that the sole reason?" My voice was more sarcastic than I planned.

"Of course not," he answered back with quiet affection.

"I love you as if you were my daughter. I would abandon your parents before I—"

"Ralph!"

"Calm down, child. I am not implying that we perform that, either, for the time being."

"What are you implying?"

Ralph Superior lifted one finger against his rims then glanced at the Grandmaster and made a circular indication.

She stood up from her chair and picked up a ragged piece of paper off her desk. I comprehended the silencing vicinity drawn on it as she dragged it over to the door.

Setting it on the ground, she snatched a small lancet out of her pocket, pricked her finger, and squeezed out a single pinch of blood onto the spell.

She could have utilized saliva; whatever they were going to inform me, they did not expect anyone else to listen.

She missed her balance for a second and then stabilized herself. Possibly had been doing warding spells all dusk and craved a rest.

When she had completed charging the area, she retreated to us and sat down.

"Listen well," Ralph instructed.

"Your parents acknowledge that the demon that murdered the three Oaks mages was very, very aged. Undeveloped. As you know, they have been striving to recognize it for years. We have long ago exhausted our archive and reserves trying to assist them to uncover it."