The Atlas Six (The Atlas, #1)(28)

She, Reina thought, was safely at the bottom of the list of people she intended to be friends with.

“I just think there’s some way we can compromise, at least,” said Nico. “Shouldn’t we have some idea who can do what?”

“I agree,” said Reina, mostly because she could see that Parisa and Tristan were resistant. It made no difference to her; everyone already knew her specialty, so she, like Nico and the thankfully now-silent Libby, had no reason not to bolster his argument and pressure the others into confessing. “Otherwise the physical specialties are going to take on the majority of the work, and if I have to waste all my energy on security—”

“Not everything has to be brute force,” said Tristan, irritably. “Just because you have physical specialties doesn’t mean you’ll be doing all the magic.”

“Well, you certainly aren’t giving me a reason t-”

“Stop,” said Nico, and because it was startling, conversation halted. “Who’s doing that?”

Reina detested the interruption, but better Nico than Tristan. “Doing what?”

“Rhodes should have spoken by now,” Nico said, sliding Libby a glance. She blinked, surprised, and then Nico turned his attention back to the others, peering suspiciously at Tristan, Parisa, and Callum. “Someone convinced her not to. Who was it?”

Tristan glanced at Parisa.

“Wow, thanks,” she said drily. “That’s not obvious.”

“Well, you can hardly blame me for—”

“It’s not me,” Parisa snapped, irritated now, and Reina fought a smile. Not only was the Tristan-Parisa alliance cracking early, but now it was obvious what Parisa’s specialty was: she could either read minds or emotions.

“One of you can influence behavior,” Nico accused, adding blisteringly, “Don’t.”

There was only one option left.

One by one, they gradually turned their attention to Callum, who sighed.

“Relax,” he said, crossing one leg listlessly over the other. “She was anxious. I turned it down.”

Libby blinked, suddenly furious. “How dare you—”

“Rhodes,” Nico said. “The air’s too dry for this kind of volatility.”

“Shut up, Varona—”

“So you’re an empath,” said Reina, glancing at Callum, “and that means…” A glance at Parisa. “You can read minds,” she guessed, determining it unlikely that a society claiming to be the most advanced of its kind would invite two pairs of identical specialties.

“Not anymore,” Parisa said with a glare at Tristan. “They’ve all got shields up now.”

“No one can hold that for long,” Tristan said, looking suspiciously at Callum. “Especially if we’re going to have to guard our emotions, too.”

“This is ridiculous,” Libby said, having successfully forced out Callum’s influence by then. “Listen, I’m the last person to ever say Varona’s doing anything reasonable—”

“Who?” said Callum, who was probably being difficult on purpose.

“I… Nico, then, whatever—the point is,” Libby exhaled impatiently, “we’ll never get anything done if we’re all trying to protect ourselves from each other. I came here to learn, for fuck’s sake!” she snapped, which Reina was exceedingly relieved to hear. Libby may have been annoying, but at least she wasn’t afraid to insist on something genuinely important. Her priorities, unlike everyone else’s, were in the right place.

“I absolutely refuse,” Libby huffed, “to exhaust my magic just to keep you lot out of my head!”

“Fine,” said Callum lazily. “I promise not to put any of you at ease, then.”

“Hey,” Nico snapped. “She’s not wrong. I’d like to have some autonomy to my sentience too, thanks.”

Tristan and Parisa seemed to agree, though they weren’t ready to say so.

“Surely we shouldn’t have to explain to an empath why none of us want our emotions toyed with,” Libby insisted.

Callum waved an indolent hand. “Just because I happen to know what your feelings are doesn’t mean I waste time trying to understand them, but fine. I’ll behave if she will,” he added with a sly glance at Parisa, who glared back.

“I don’t influence anyone,” she said, irritated. “Not magically, anyway. Because I’m not an asshole.”

Sure you’re not, thought Reina loudly, prompting Parisa to yet another scowl.

In the absence of any further discussion, the three remaining members had turned to Tristan, whom Reina realized belatedly was the last to reveal his specialty.

“I—” He stiffened, unhappily cornered. “I’m a type of illusionist.”

“Yeah, so am I,” replied Callum, a doubtful drawl. “A bit of a blanket term, isn’t it?”

“Wait a minute,” Parisa said, suddenly recalling something. “Your name is Callum Nova, isn’t it? Of the illusionist Novas?”

The others in the room sat up slightly, expressing interest that even Reina couldn’t prevent. The Nova Corporation was a global media conglomerate who secretly or not-so-secretly specialized in illusions; they were dominant in both the mortal and medeian industries, most adept within the industry of cosmetics and beauty. They were fascinating not only for their products, but for their cutthroat business practices. They had put several smaller companies out of business by repeatedly undermining medeian statutes about how much magic could be used in mortal products.