Jovie sat them in a room at the top of the library, hidden away from the patrons and accessible only using the elevator, which was only tolerable due to the chilling death grip Soma had on Magic’s forehead. It was a hellish endeavor even with the assistance, the same kind of calm that eased him enough to tolerate simply moving his limbs.
Every motion sent a chill across his skin which still felt hot to the touch, though Magic wasn’t sure which was truth and which was fiction. After all, the scent of smoke still hung on the inside of his nose and he was fairly certain that he wasn’t standing inside of a burning building or at home in the midst of acidic smoke.
He shook his head, trying to mask the shudder that went through him by rolling his shoulders as Jovie pulled up two seats for herself and Vallian and plopped down in front of them. The energetic child from the other day, Delilah, sat primly in Vallian’s lap, her emerald green eyes wide and curious. Magic prayed to Ori—even Soma—that the child would not get up from her guardian’s lap to pester them with questions. He wasn’t in the mood to be bothered and just looking at the young girl, who was preoccupied with a book in her lap, was enough to give Magic a headache.
Meanwhile, Jovie’s eyes had lost their intensity, replaced with a kind of curiosity as her attention flicked from him to his sister, who was sitting beside him, her goat nudging the side of her knee with his snout.
Mira was uncharacteristically quiet, more than she had been the last few days and the fact that she was more content to sit still and listen to everyone else raised more red flags in Magic’s head than the opposite. He supposed he couldn’t blame her for being so shocked. Watching another human being be possessed by a supernatural entity was never on his list of things he thought he would see in nearly twenty-one years of life.
For several long, excruciating moments, no one spoke. Magic could feel the tension in the room building, all heavy and uneasy with words not yet said. Jovie stared at them with those inscrutable eyes of hers, fingers laced together, gaze trained heavily on Mira, who returned the stare. If Magic didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought that his sister was paying attention, not glaring back in a silent assertion of will.
He cleared his throat and almost immediately the Scepter jumped in before he could get a word out.
“She sold you out,” Jovie said. “Millie. The innkeeper. Turns out the two of you have a price on your head.”
“What kind of price?” Mira asked.
“The kind that would turn a Scepter against someone else like her. Or, someone suspected to be like her.”
Magic quickly looked at his sister, enough to catch her gaze. She turned away before he could properly read it.
“Millie used to be a captive here with her daughter in the Subsidian Cardinal Building. One of the warehouses up in the Northern District keeps Scepters and half-sights—even people with the gene and no expression of it—as test subjects. She was one of the lucky ones we were able to save. We gave her and her daughter new identities and a fresh start.”
“What made her flip sides?” asked Magic.
“Family,” interjected Vallian. The librarian shifted a little in his seat, arms wrapped around Delilah’s waist as the girl shifted around on his knee. “People with Sight know how valuable their family is. They live with the fear knowing that they could be separated at any moment.” Vallian slumped back into the chair, bringing Delilah with him. She giggled as the back of her head knocked into her guardian’s chest. “If the Vultures are good at anything,” he added, “it’s applying pressure on weak points.”
“What I don’t understand,” said Jovie, leaning forward in her seat, “is why the Cardinals would threaten Millie’s daughter in exchange for the two of you. What have the two of you done to ruffle the birds’ feathers?”
“We don’t know,” Magic said. “That’s half the reason why we’re here.”
“Half?”
He shrugged. “My sister has a love of travel.”
Mira shot him an odd look from her spot on the chair. Magic returned it. She looked at him as if the whole reason why they’d been in this mess in the first place wasn’t because she’d wanted to see the world and escape a smothering hometown that could drown everyone in it with small talk and gossip. As if the reason they were here in the first place wasn’t because his sister desired to know what went beyond Droidell’s boundaries.
Jovie hummed to herself as she considered them both. “I know a thing or two about you both. Droidellan born, wanted by the Droidellan Cardinal HQ for escape of capture. Suspected Sight in one of the two candidates. The only problem is that Jax doesn’t cause this much of a fuss for two escapees.”
“Usually,” cut in Vallian, the white rims around his pupils undulating under the library’s overhead lights. “Jax has his reasons for doing a number of things. Don’t discount anything that the bastard does.”
The Scepter nodded. “What are you capable of,” she asked, her gaze landing on Mira with such intensity that, in the moment, Magic was glad it wasn’t on him, “that intrigues the Scarlet Kingpin so much?”
“I wouldn’t say it’s capability that interests them so much as it is a shiny object,” said Mira, and without further explanation, she dug the silver brooch from the side of her coat, holding it out in front of her.
Light caught on the sapphire embedded in the skull, shattering into shades of blue like a prism for one hue. Jovie nearly fell out of her chair as if drawn to it. But what caught Magic’s eye wasn’t the pull that the Scepter so obviously felt, it was Vallian. The librarian’s jaw dropped and he stiffened a little, a shade paler as if someone had scared him half to death. Delilah didn’t notice; she was content staring directly at the pin Mira had produced, but Magic saw it. The tightness in the man’s jaw. The confusion that swam in his eyes.
Everything about Vallian Roenthall screamed fear, but as for what, Magic wasn’t sure.
“The Cardinals that attacked us at the inn,” said Mira, “were pretty adamant about taking this little guy away from us. I don’t know exactly what it does, but they made it very clear that whatever it is, they want it.”
Jovie was standing now, slowly making her way over towards the pin with a shimmer in her eyes. They were an almost pale blue tint, those eyes, and Magic felt himself retreating in his own chair when Vallian cleared his throat. Jovie paused and the librarian sat upright, hoisting Delilah up by her armpits and readjusting her on his lap.
“It’s an enhancer,” he said. “Heightens the power of cipher in the blood and helps the holder to channel it in more…effective ways. Because of the energy it exudes it has a very specific…pull on certain people.” Vallian shot his friend a look (one that Magic recognized as a kind of silent scolding) and Jovie retreated but did not return to her seat. She stood beside it, the shadow at her feet pacing in anxious circles.
Magic frowned. How does a powerful amplifier suddenly find its way into the hands of a thief—even a poor one—in the shadiest alleys of Elnoire? There were so many questions prodding at the inside of his skull. “How do you know so much about it?”
“Because I made it.” There was no challenge in Vallian’s eyes when he spoke, only solemn resignation. A kind of sadness that Magic couldn’t pinpoint. “It was a prototype. I made it … to see if it could help Jovie.”
“What help does Jovie need?” asked Mira, her voice a squeak. “I thought she was the Celez Vesza. Isn’t that what Soma is for?”
Jovie scowled, the crease between her dark brows a shadow against her skin. “Soma isn’t a tool for me to use. We share a bond. A very persistent and prevailing bond. She’s in my head constantly as I am in hers.”
“A mind meld,” Magic murmured.
“Correct. It’s a mutualistic relationship between the two of us, but it doesn’t do much for our own abilities.” Now Jovie seated herself and the shadow that was Soma leapt up to perch on the Scepter’s lap, small chittering noises emerging from nowhere and everywhere. “It’s like taking two pieces of flint and striking them against each other to create sparks. The sparks are good, but we lack a flame large enough for the task at hand.”
“That being?”
The Scepter heaved a sigh, sinking into the cushions behind her and the shadow on her lap laid down like a content dog. Jovie, for her part, began to pat the air just behind her knees, hand resting squarely in the air as if resting on an animal’s head. “What do you know of the Spectacles? Their origin, their predicament?”
Magic looked to his sister to find a very expectant expression wavering in her eyes. She glanced between him and the visible trio sitting before them as if silently asking him to fill in the blanks that she didn’t know. He frowned at that. He wasn’t an encyclopedia. Even his own knowledge was a moth-eaten thing, worn from memory and filled with holes. He only knew the basics, but it would have to do. “They’re creatures born of stardust. They guard the land and the people who reside on it, each taking up a specific direction of Circadia’s continent.”
“And of their connection to Locht?” asked Vallian. “The Dark Wind? Beast of the Maidenwoods?”
Locht. Now there was a name. “Not a clue.”
Jovie drummed the fingers of her free hand absently along the arm of the chair. “The Spectacles as we know them are chained to their respective regions, but they didn’t used to be. In the ancient times, the Spectacles, born from a being known only as the Celestial Maiden in the oldest texts we could find, took up guardianship of the land after She deposited her soul into the Maidenwood tree.”
“The big tree in the center?” asked Mira. “The one that looks like a young, healthy tree that’s stuck in autumn?”
“Correct. It’s been living for centuries—millennia, even.”
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
Magic hadn’t noticed the tree’s youth in the woods; he’d been too busy focusing on the carvings to find the direction they needed to walk in. But now that he did think about it, he supposed that the leaves did look relatively new despite their golden shine.
Delilah started to swing her legs back and forth, effectively kicking Vallian in the shins and forcing him upright. He reached forward, rested a hand on the girl’s knees and whispered something to her that made her trade the leg swinging for bouncing. “When are we going to see the tree, Jovie?” she asked.
“No time soon, little bug,” said the Scepter, leaning to rub the child’s chin as though she were getting rid of a smudge. “Not while the Beast is there.” Delilah pouted, but Jovie gave her niece a small pat on the head before continuing her story. “Now,” she went on, “the Spectacles did not always look the way they do now or in the murals. They looked very different in their prime. And they would have stayed that way had it not been for Locht.”
Magic watched his sister stare at her shoes.
“Locht is not a Spectacle, but a being capable of mimicking their abilities well enough to fool the Celestial Maiden into accepting him as one of Her own. He is a being said to come into existence once every several millennia, a creature that comes and goes and cannot be destroyed as much as it can be contained. Doomed to forever be the Spectacles’ eternal opposite, Locht, after centuries growing in power, recognized himself for what he was: dez’Omnecron. The Evershadow.”
“For a time,” interjected Vallian, “his status as a celestial guardian was true. He hadn’t known at the time what he truly was. As far as the Spectacles knew, he was one of them until he wasn’t.”
The chittering by Jovie’s feet morphed to growls, and Magic felt the distinct need to place his feet up, so he rested them on the edge of the cushions. He wasn’t keen on being in the rabbit’s war path if the conversation soured her mood.
“When he realized his potential,” said Jovie, “he went berserk and began slaughtering millions of living things. Plants. Animals. Humans. It didn’t matter what he demolished, so long as he did.” Her expression darkened as she leaned forward on her knees, elbows digging into her legs. “Chaos is an all-consuming thing. There is no single entity capable of satiating it.”
Magic thought about the Maidenwoods and the deep rivets in the earth, slicing the ground like track marks. Or, perhaps more fittingly, wounds. Scars.
“To contain him,” said Vallian, “the Spectacles fought and combined their powers to bind Locht to the Maidenwood tree—the same exact tree said to hold the soul of the Celestial Maiden. To that end, each remaining Spectacle retreated to their respective region and discarded what remained of their power and energy into a designated object. In Soma’s case, it’s—”
“Irrelevant for the time being.” Jovie’s tone sharpened, an edge like a knife. “What matters is that that object, that enhancer, could be the key to freeing Soma from her chain. It would give her her power back.”
Mira looked down at the pin in her hand, rubbing her thumb over the sapphire. “Could it do anything for me? They didn’t just target me for this, Jovie. They targeted me for my eye. And I want to know if it’s possible.”
Jovie frowned, then tossed a cautious look towards Vallian. Magic couldn’t read the man’s expression; the clenched jaw and small shake of his head suggested distrust, but there was something distinctly fearful in his posture that Magic couldn’t pinpoint. He hadn’t thought the librarian would be so easily frightened. Then again, he’d only spoken with Vallian Roenthall once in his life. Maybe he was jumping the gun.
Despite the warning signs, Jovie motioned for the pin and Mira lobbed it. Once it was safely in the Scepter’s hands, she moved it between her palms, clouded white eyes glittering as she considered the token. A spark caught in the woman’s eyes. “I can help you.” She looked up. “I know what cipher looks like when it’s in use. I can see it. And Soma was responsible for giving it to us in the first place. We can test you.”
For the first time, Mira shrunk into herself, looking smaller. Jerald nudged her legs, but she didn’t budge, only hugged her shins and looked over at Magic, uncertainty swimming in her eyes. He recognized that look—or shades of it—from when they were younger and halfway through a plan Mira had hastily concocted and dragged him through. Only when she’d begun to reap the consequences of her actions did she have that look, one of pure, unadulterated regret.
“You think it’ll help give you answers?” he whispered.
“I don’t know,” she said softly, and Magic didn’t know if she was answering his question or if she meant what would happen regardless of the results.
“Think about it from a logical perspective. We’ve made it this far. We have a Spectacle with us. What do we have to lose at this point?”
Mira shrugged. “Not much. Aside from maybe our sanity.”
“Pretty sure I lost that a while ago dealing with you for more than half my life.” That got him a glare, but he could see the crinkle in her forehead that was closer to a playful doubt than outright scorn. “Jokes aside,” he went on, “the least you deserve are answers, Mira. You can get them here. Isn’t that what we were looking for?”
She nodded, but there wasn’t much conviction in the motion. Even her eyes, typically bright and wrought with mischief, were dull as though she were preoccupied with something else. “Yeah.”
“It won’t be bad,” said Jovie. “I won’t stick you with needles and strap monitors to your chest if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Mira frowned and sat up a bit straighter. Her fingers tightened a little around the arm of the chair. “Machines don’t scare me,” she said. For all her bravado, Magic knew that was a lie. “Neither do needles. I’ve been around them enough as a kid.”
The Scepter held Mira’s gaze and Magic watched the silent war between them. He didn’t know if Jovie was assessing his sister to make sure she wouldn’t back down or if she was just that interested in the idea that Mira had potential, but there was a distinct glimmer of challenge in the Scepter’s eyes, accompanied by the low chitters of the animal heeling at her feet. Vallian watched, too, his eyes wandering between the two women.
Then, Jovie took a breath, looked at her companion and said, “Give them the downstairs space overnight. I want to test her capacity tomorrow morning.”
“Jovie, I don’t—,” started Vallian, who placed Delilah on the ground, but the Scepter waved him off, much to his visible frustration. Still, he kept his mouth shut as Jovie turned on her heel and walked towards the elevator, Delilah skipping after her and tugging on her shirt when she was close enough.
Even when the elevator dinged, Magic felt himself jump and reached to grab the closest of Bjorn’s horns until the fire in his nerves receded and calm overcame him.
Vallian sank into his chair, dragging his hands down his face and groaned into his palms. He muttered something under his breath that sounded almost like a curse, but he didn’t get up to follow the Scepter, nor did he make his voice louder when Magic gave him a look. The other Droidellan just sat there looking thoroughly annoyed, staring just behind the two of them..
Mira rested her chin on her knees. “How warm and welcoming of her,” she said dryly. “She do that often? Say something and leave without giving any explanation?”
Vallian shook his head, less out of disagreement Magic figured than annoyance. With an exasperated breath, he ruffled his short hair with short, quick motions. “You have no fucking idea.”
Mira made a small noise in her throat, then lifted her hand as if cheering with a glass. “Fun,” she said simply and got up to leave.
Vallian brought them back to the rooms they’d woken up in after the fire. Most of the medical equipment was gone (he assumed it was Jovie’s doing) and all that remained was a simple bed dressed in plain sheets, the bookshelves in the rooms readjusted to be adjacent to the mattress. The rooms were bare and a little boring, but it was better than what he would have at home. At least he would have reading material.
“You can make yourselves at home here,” Vallian said, sweeping his arms towards the rooms. “If you need anything, holler. I live down here in this part of the library.”
“What,” said Mira, leaning against the door frame to her room, “you don’t have a house?”
The librarian winced a little. “Let’s just say my connections leave me a bit exposed. We’ve reinforced the library with additional bits of security, so it’s a little more troublesome for people to enter uninvited after closing hours. Keeps Jovie and Delilah safe.”
Magic squinted. “And Soma?”
“Soma doesn’t need protection.” The words were quick, snappy, and Vallian seemed almost annoyed at the implication. Magic would have figured that, for a creature with a target on her back, Soma would have been granted the same kind of grace that Jovie had been given. “Anyway,” Vallian went on, “get yourselves settled. Especially you.” He nodded once at Mira, who straightened with her arms crossed over her chest. “Jovie is a stickler for time frames. If she tells you morning, she means morning.”
“Great,” Mira muttered. “I’ll be sure to wake up after she stops at my door.”
Magic chuckled, but Vallian didn’t look very impressed. He wondered what it would take to get the librarian to relax a little—or at the very least get used to Mira’s sarcasm. Considering who Vallian seemed to spend most of his time with, Magic assumed that the other Droidellan didn’t often see someone with Mira’s level of ironic prowess.
“I mean it,” Vallian said. “You were the ones who asked for help. I suggest you take Jovie’s offer seriously.”
And before Mira could throw a sarcastic bout back at him, the librarian was already moving down the hall, turning right into a room and loudly closing the door behind him.
Magic raised a brow, then took off his glasses and began to rub the lenses against his coat. “I bet he’s fun at parties,” he said flatly.
“At that point, I’d rather drag you along for company,” Mira muttered back. He shot his sister a tired glance. She was nothing but blobs of color, and even then Magic could recognize her shrug, shades of purple from her coat climbing up to meet the bronze of her skin. “He’s just as prickly as she is. I don’t know what he’s complaining about as if he’s any better.”
The world returned to focus as Magic placed his glasses back on his nose. Vallian’s complaints weren’t the only things off about him. There wasn’t much that Magic had to go off of. Sure, the man was harsh and a little blunt, but that wasn’t the most pressing issue about him. It was all of the small things. The confusion on his face when he spotted the pin, the persistent cowering away from Jovie despite their friendship. The dismissal of the tiny deity in their presence. And Magic didn’t intend on letting those details slip.
“Prickly as he is,” he said, “it might do both of us good to sleep whatever hours we have left in the night. Especially since you have things to do.”
Mira rolled her eyes, but her fingers wiggled, seeking her ring on her hand. She spun it around several times and stared at her feet to deflect the question.
Magic ignored it. “Mira, don’t tell me you have cold feet.”
“You remember when Alaric asked me what I was afraid of?” she said, eyes trained on the rock on her finger. “The fact that I might have potential or the Cardinals?”
“Yeah. You said they both did.”
“There’s a bit more to it than that, Mags. Like I told you at the inn, I’m scared of what will happen if it’s true. I’m afraid of what my life will be like when I’m constantly on the run for a gene lottery I didn’t get a choice in. And I’m scared of what will happen if it’s not true and all of this is for nothing and I still end up targeted for something I never had in the first place. I want to know what I am, but I’m afraid of everything that will happen if I learn that truth. Being one step closer to it all … I’m fucking terrified.”
Magic looked around the hallway. There was no answer to be found this way, though he found it a bit easier to reply to his sister this way. He’d never been good at words of comfort. It was a flimsy tool in his social toolbox, but it was far better than having nothing at all. “Regardless of what Jovie and Soma find out about you, we’ll figure something out. We always do. Even if it’s a makeshift plan we have to throw together in the moment.”
Mira didn’t say anything, just looked up at him from the corner of her eyes. He met her gaze then, a silent conversation passing between them like an oath. One they’d held and perfected since childhood.
Promise?
I promise.