That made him jerk his head toward me and glare. The expression changed him. Suddenly he looked less like a human being and more like something carved from marble. Angry, angry marble. I felt my shoulders tense up in the presence of a creature I knew was genuinely dangerous. He glared at me, but he had to look up to do it. Usually, I have a commanding advantage when looking down at him. Today, I had less than usual, since I was standing in a depression in the sand.
I squinted at him. Then I spoke carefully and slowly. Not anymore. Something in his body language relaxed, and suddenly he was just my brother again.
I squinted down at my feet for a while. I raised both of my hands, palms out. Then it was my turn to frown. Silence stretched. Over the lake, the sky began to swell with the first faint band of deep orange. It had already gotten to the skyscrapers behind us. But it tickled my throat weirdly and made me start coughing.
Carlos Ramirez was of average height, maybe of a little more than average muscle. He was filling out, getting that solid adult look to him, though for some reason I still expected to see a gangly kid in his early twenties whenever I saw him. His skin was bronzed from inclination and the sun. He wore jeans and a tank top and a light jacket. Ramirez was solid, a proven fighter, a good man to have at your back, and was one of a very few people on the White Council of Wizardry whom I considered a friend.
McCoy thought it would be good for someone you knew to tell you, Harry. I grunted and unfastened the damned weighted vest. White Council business, typically, gave me a headache.
Some lunatic had managed to wipe out the Red Court of Vampires completely, and the resulting vacuum had destabilized balances of power that were centuries old. The biggest result of the chaos was that the Fomor, an undersea power hardly anyone had spoken about during my lifetime, had risen up with a vengeance, taking territory from various powers and wreaking havoc on ordinary humans—mostly the poor, migrants, people without many champions to stand for them.
Apparently, the Fomor requested it. They want to resolve our differences. I whistled. That would be something. A gathering of influential members of the greatest powers in the supernatural world, in a time where tensions were high and tempers hot.
I pitied the poor town where that little dinner party was going to take place. In fact. Ramirez shrugged and spread his hands. It impressed a lot of people. My brother covered up his mouth with one hand and coughed. I chose to ignore the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. Ramirez cleared his throat before continuing. I took off the weighted vest with disgust and tossed it onto the beach.
It made an extremely weighty thump when it hit. He shook his head. His expression, for a moment, was probing and pensive. I looked down at my feet again and studied the ground. I could see it better as the sun drew nearer the horizon. Ramirez nodded firmly. They told me I could pick my own team. I want you there. Ramirez grinned and inclined his head.
Or maybe I just want to see some more buildings burn down. Ramirez shambled off, leaning on his cane, moving without much grace but with considerable energy. He watched Ramirez depart, and his eyes narrowed in thought.
Things are going to get complicated. He snorted, clapped my arm, and started walking back to the car without saying anything further. Once he was gone, I stepped out of the depression in the sand and picked up my weighted vest. Then I turned and studied it as the sun began to come up in earnest and I could finally see clearly. The Imposter Cure: How to stop feeling like a fraud and escape the Imposter syndrome is a phenomenon in which people believe they are not worthy of success.
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