Free Dead to Me by Anton Strout Page A

divisions by name, but the Enchancellors seem to come up with two or three new ones every time I turn around.”
     
    “What’s an Enchancellor?” Irene asked. She reminded me of a little kid with all her questions, but I realized to an outsider, it must all seem overwhelming.
     
    “They’re like an overseeing committee for the D.E.A. They monitor the whole of what’s going on, assigning new divisions at will while overseeing the rest.”
     
    “Sounds confusing,” she said. I nodded. “So you’re a part of the government then?”
     
    “Yes and no,” I said. “We’re official, but they don’t really acknowledge us.”
     
    “Really?”
     
    I nodded. “Look around you. Are most government offices hidden behind a hipster coffee shop–slash–movie house? Remember that guy on the television before?”
     
    It was Irene’s turn to nod.
     
    “David Davidson. He’s our liaison to the Mayor’s Office. The fact is that the bulk of citizens in Manhattan—and more importantly to him, the registered voters—are simply not ready to cope with the notion that The Big Apple’s government deals in the supernatural. ‘Living Voters are Happy Voters!’ is his motto. Besides, most residents turn a blind eye to it anyway. It’s New York City. Weird shit happens.”
     
    “And people just ignore it?” she said, fascinated.
     
    “Mostly,” I said. “Even though it’s right under their noses. Most occurrences end up being reported in the daily New York rags. Urban Bigfoot in Central Park, alien abductions on the Great Lawn…”
     
    Before I could finish my diatribe on the finer points of half-assed journalism, I sensed watchful eyes upon me. I scanned the room only to find Thaddeus Wesker—Matrixy sunglasses forever hiding his eyes—looking in our general direction while he verbally bitchslapped a team of people from his division.
     
    “So Wesker’s in charge of both Greaterand Lesser Arcana now?” I asked.
     
    I knew little about the man except that he was very, very scary. I had heard that he had impressed the Enchancellors by carving the latest batch of arcane runes into the walls by himself. I also knew that he seemed perpetually pissed off. Somehow, he still looked like slickness personified as he yelled at the elite squad—black hair slicked perfectly straight back and sporting just the right amount of five o’clock shadow at all times.
     
    Irene gave him a quick glance and just as quickly turned away.
     
    “Are you all right?” I asked.
     
    “It makes me uncomfortable to look at him,” she said, her voice trembling with weakness.
     
    “Relax,” Connor said. “It’s not you, Irene. Everyone gets the same spooky vibe from him.”
     
    “Makes me wonder exactly how Mr. I-Wear-My-Sunglasses-at-Night got involved with us men in white hats in the first place,” I said.
     
    Connor continued along the main aisle of the cubicle farm, and lowered his voice. “He volunteered to head up the Witchcraft backlog around here, kid, and when they merged departments with Greater Arcana during the City Hall budget crunch last week, he simply stared the other directors down for leadership. And he pulled that trick again over the newly formed Greater and Lesser Arcana that rose from the ashes.”
     
    “Authority through intimidation,” I said. “Nice.”
     
    Irene looked terrified.
     
    “Don’t worry,” Connor offered with reassurance. “I don’t think you’ll have to deal with him.”
     
    I smiled at Irene and stepped closer as we continued walking.
     
    “When I was first training, the big threat for us newbies was that if I didn’t keep on my toes, the teachers would assign me to one of Wesker’s seminars over at Witchcraft.”
     
    “Well, I don’t care for him,” Irene said. “He gives me the heebie-jeebies.”
     
    “I said the exact same thing!” I exclaimed.
     
    Connor looked at me with eyebrows raised, but said nothing. He turned and walked on.
     
    The back part of