Rowder sighed. “Mr. Parnassus, how can we help if you won’t be honest with us? We aren’t the evil masterminds you seem bent on making us out to be. According to the official record, you are the only known phoenix in the entire world. Did you know that?”
“Yes.”
“That must be very lonely for you. I don’t think you can be blamed, then, for seeking out others like you, to find strength in purpose and solidarity.” She grew stern, a mother scolding an unruly child. “However, that doesn’t give you the right to act as a vigilante, especially when it seeks to undermine everything we stand for. Have you ever considered the fact that you caused more harm than good?”
“Not once,” Arthur replied.
Her forehead wrinkled. “Not … once? No twinges of guilt? Nothing deep inside your captivating brain that screamed at you to stop and think for once in your life?”
“Never,” Arthur said. “Offering food, clothing, and shelter to people who had none seemed like the best way to spend the government’s money. Pardon me. My money.”
Rowder’s eyes flashed, but when she spoke, her voice was even. “And sometimes that meant moving people.”
“Yes.”
“Unregistered people.”
“Yes.”
“To keep them from following the letter of the law.”
“Laws meant to control them,” Arthur snapped, his anger finally getting the best of him. “To never let them forget that a government built with the idea of helping people only includes those society deems normal. I’ve seen firsthand what your letter of the law entails. Or have you forgotten the reason I’m here?”
“We haven’t,” Rowder said. “And I’ll be the first to say that mistakes were made, mistakes that I wouldn’t wish upon anyone. I’m sure the others will agree.”
Sallow nodded furiously, Haversford eyed Rowder warily, and Burton looked as if he wished he were anywhere but here in Netherwicke.
“See?” Rowder asked. “So, yes, I think—”
Arthur leaned forward, mouth inches from the microphone. “Then apologize.”
That caught Rowder off guard. For a brief moment, the countenance of sympathy failed, replaced by a flash of black rage so severe it knocked the breath from Arthur’s chest. It lasted only a second or two before a bland expression of the unperturbed took root, spreading across her face. “You were compensated one million pounds,” she said lightly.
“I was,” Arthur said. “But I failed to hear a single apology from anyone: not from the master who abused me and others. Nor from any member of a governing body, including DICOMY and DICOMA. You consider optics in everything you do, yes? Of course you do. You’re part of the government. So, for your consideration, I not only ask for an apology from you for the way I was treated, but also an apology to every single magical person who has been harmed—physically, emotionally, psychologically—by your rules. By your regulations. By your laws. You want to talk about the children? They’re listening, along with countless others from our community. Give them a reason to believe you care about us. Give them a reason to believe, after hearing what you have, that you have their best interests in mind, and that you will not fail them as you have failed so many others. Apologize for the harm you have caused.”
“Mr. Parnassus,” Haversford said. “I hear you. I do. I think it’s time for a break—
But Rowder was having none of it. “Did you—at any point—train those you helped to fight?”
Keeping his expression neutral was getting harder. “I taught them to protect themselves.”
“For the record, please make note of the fact that Mr. Parnassus did not answer the question asked. Mr. Parnassus, are you training an army of the most dangerous magical children this world has ever known? Children you are now attempting to own outright through adoption, along with Linus Baker, a former employee of DICOMY?”
Who did she think she was? “Own? I refuse to—”
Rowder spoke over him, raising her voice. “Did Linus Baker reveal classified information to you, either during his month-long inspection of the island or after?”
“I resent the implication. You don’t—”
“And Zoe Chapelwhite. An unregistered island sprite who, by Mr. Baker’s own reports, is extraordinarily powerful and not only has contact with the children of Marsyas Island, but actively contributes to their education. Is that correct?”
“Yes, and she—”
“Which, of course, brings me back to the Antichrist. Lucy. A wonderful name for a boy. But let’s call him by his actual given name, shall we? Lucifer. The purported scion of the Devil himself. A boy who—”
“Is only seven years old,” Arthur retorted, his anger a molten ball of lead sitting in his stomach. “A boy who loves music and baking. A boy who has chosen to be good because he wants to be.”
“For how long?” Rowder asked. “What if something—say, your adoption application—doesn’t come to fruition? What would he do then in retaliation? Enforce his will upon the population? Level cities? Bring about an age of darkness where he installs himself as ruler of—”
Arthur stood abruptly, his chair scraping the floor. “He is a child. They all are. Do you hear yourselves? Any of you? Why are you attempting to influence public opinion by making baseless accusations, ones we will have to deal with for the rest of our lives? You don’t get to—”
“I think you’ll find that I do get to,” Rowder said. “I am aware they are children, Mr. Parnassus. But even children can travel a dangerous road when led by a man who has decided he is above the law.”
“How dare you,” Arthur said coldly. “I came here as a show of good faith to—”
“You came here because we allowed it,” Rowder said as if they were discussing the weather. “I think we’ve learned all there is to know. Thank you, Mr. Parnassus. Your testimony today has proven enlightening. We will take everything we’ve heard into consideration while we decide the best course of action.” She smiled again, and Arthur’s blood turned to ice. “Though it has yet to be announced, I doubt Herman—pardon me, Prime Minister Carmine—would mind if I let the cat out of the bag.” Her smile widened, revealing perfect white teeth. “As of last week, I have been appointed interim head of the Departments in Charge of Magical Youth and Magical Adults while the investigation into EUM continues. I am honored the prime minister has placed so much faith in me. As such, I am ready to make my first decree. A new inspector will travel to Marsyas Island to provide a complete accounting as to the goings-on there. Unlike past inspectors who were unable to file reports without subjective commentary, this new inspector will have no such problems.” She chuckled. “And no, Mr. Parnassus, this inspector will not be male, given your … propensities for distraction when it comes to DICOMY employees.”
“What is wrong with you?” someone yelled, and Arthur turned his head to find Linus Baker standing, gripping the railing in front of him so tightly, his knuckles were bloodless. He was shaking with barely restrained rage. “The lack of decorum and common decency is absolutely appalling. This farce will not be forgotten. Everyone will see exactly the kind of people you are.”
“Quiet in the gallery!” Burton barked into his microphone, even as reporters began shouting questions over one another, their words combining into unintelligible nonsense.
Rowder ignored them all, raising her voice. “The point of this inspection will be to determine if the children—Talia and Phee and Lucy and Sal and Theodore and Chauncey and David—are safe at Marsyas island, or if they need to be removed for their own well-being and relocated. The safety of these children—and all children, magical or not—is paramount to DICOMY. If they are found to be abused or imprisoned or worse, being trained, it’s vital that we protect them before it’s too late. After all, studies have shown that the circle of violence must be broken. For all we know, Mr. Parnassus has locked them away just as was done to him, and I will invite our guest one more time to show me. The. Bird.”
He knew he was playing into her hands. She was trying to get a rise out of him, to make him lose control and prove he was as dangerous as she’d not so subtly hinted. He knew what she wanted, and though he tried his damnedest to fight it, the implication that he was a threat against the children—his children—proved to be too much. They wanted to see what he was capable of? He’d show them. He’d show them all.
Someone in the gallery above screamed when bright blooms of fire raced down Arthur’s arms, engulfing the sleeves of his suit coat. The fire reached his hands—his palms, his knuckles, his fingertips all crackling, a white-hot center that looked like a miniature sun—and in his head, the phoenix awakened from its slumber, fiery eyes blinking slowly as it shifted within. They were not independent of each other, not like Rowder had implied. The man was the monster, the monster the man. They were one and the same, and when Arthur’s wings began to take form—orange-red feathers that burned bright, fierce—the relief he felt was all-consuming, vast, tinged with more than a little anger. His vision sharpened, his blood ran boiling hot. Each wing was at least ten feet in length, little droplets of fire falling from them onto the floor, splashing in sparks of blue before dissipating. He saw through his own eyes, but it doubled as he was in two places at once: man standing and beast rising. Arthur spread his arms and the phoenix shrieked, a piercing cry that shook the windows of the dome above. Its large fan of tail feathers rattled together like bones.
He thought about giving in to the phoenix, letting it swallow him whole. Already, his thoughts were changing, becoming less complex, guided by instinct rather than the cold calculation of human logic and strategy. Fly, he thought as Arthur Parnassus. Fly, he thought as a phoenix, but instead of the word itself, it came as a series of images soaked in fire: wings spread wide, pumping up and down, lifting them (him) off the floor. Up and up. Sizzling heat shattering the dome, glass melting in crystalline clumps. Freedom in a slate sky, rain hissing the moment it touched the bird’s feathers.