A Hero at the End of the World Read Online Free Page A

and Oliver was reminded that, unlike him, most people didn’t have the range of power to sense everyday incantations. He could feel the enchantments emanating from the locket like warmth from a fire: there were two spells, a forever-polishing spell layered on top of a standard antitheft one people used for personal items. Of course, it was a waste of magic to use anything on a cheap locket, but some people were oddly sentimental.
    When he glanced back down at the hooded suspects, the one holding the locket had pushed back her hood. She was an older woman around his foster mum’s age, and it was difficult to imagine her cutting out someone’s heart or whatever it was people did when they sacrificed someone.
    She opened her hand. Inside the frame of the locket was a tiny, blurry photo of an old man. “This is our prophet,” she said dreamily. “Ralph the Ravager.”
    “Ralph the Ravager,” the rest of the contingent repeated.
    “Ralph?” Oliver asked.
    “Ralph the Ravager.”
    “Oh, for Neorxnawang’s sake,” said Sophie.
    “And that’s who you were making the sacrifice to?” Oliver asked, leaning in for a better look. Out of the corner of his eye, Sophie was jotting down notes onto a pad of paper. “Or for?”
    “We would all gladly give up our lives for Ralph the Ravager,” said another hooded figure, a man this time.
    “Ralph the Ravager.”
    Sophie stopped whatever it was she writing. “This was meant to be a group sacrifice?”
    “We were going to release our energy back into the universe, in a powerful, unified movement,” the first woman told them. “Then Lord Ravager—”
    “Ralph the Ravager.”
    “—Would absorb it.” She looked at Oliver with concern. “My dear, do you not know about the healing powers of Zaubernegativum?”
    “Zaubernegativum?” Oliver echoed, frowning. The word sounded somewhat familiar, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.
    She must have mistaken his confusion for something else, because she beamed at him. “Are you a member of our society? You should come to the next meeting.”
    Ignoring Sophie’s hard stare, he replied carefully, “I might do. And does your, um, prophet know what you tried to do for him?”
    “Of course he doesn’t. If he knew, it wouldn’t be a gift.”
    “So you were all”—Sophie pointed her pencil at the group—“going to kill yourselves so that your leader—”
    “Prophet,” someone corrected icily.
    “So your
prophet
could become more powerful? What was he going to do with that much magic?”
    It was a fair point. Oliver waited.
    “Whatever he wanted,” said the old woman, smiling.
    Sophie looked faintly murderous, but luckily one of the police officers appeared at her side. “Agent Stuart, the injured one’s been taken care of,” he told her, giving the suspects an indifferent look. “We’re ready to cart this lot down to station for further interviews.”
    “That’s fine,” she said. “Oliver?”
    “We’ll meet you there,” he said to the officer, though honestly he wondered if they would be able to get any more out of them. The one woman eager to speak with them seemed rather obtuse.
    The hooded suspects were promptly de-robed and rounded up into several of the police cars waiting on the street. There was a great deal of muttering about the Magical Expression Act again, and one of them shouted, “Fascists!” as she was shoved into a car. The man whose wrist had been cut was escorted out separately, looking sheepish.
    “What do you think?” Sophie asked as soon as they were out of earshot. “Cult?”
    “No wonder it was assigned to me—erm, to us,” Oliver said, nodding in agreement. “Do you suppose this Ralph the Ravager has overcome, or at least has told
them
he’s overcome, the recharging limit and can now absorb an endless amount of power?”
    “That’s not what concerns me,” said Sophie. Her lips flattened into a thin red line. “The real question is, if he has done, then what’s he