The Eastern District exploded into a barrage of light and sounds.
Mira found herself grappling with a man roughly half a head taller than her, her hands seizing the collar of his coat to bring his head towards hers. The collision rang through her head like a gunshot and it made her feet unsteady, but the man opposite her cursed and let go of her throat.
Not the smartest choice, she acknowledged silently, but “smart” had no place in a dirty fight. All it cared about was efficiency and that did the job.
What Mira could see of Soma (which admittedly was just the sparks) perched on a jagged stone, tendrils in flashes from her face as though electricity were surging through the air. She felt the hair on her arms and neck stand up as pressure crackled in the space. Five people stilled and fell to their knees, hands at their necks. Mouths moved—in pleas or prayer Mira didn’t know. She just watched long enough to watch color bleed from their faces and crumple to the earth as nothing more than pale, lifeless husks.
Another set of hands threw themselves around Mira’s neck, snagging her in a chokehold. She cast a desperate look at Jovie, hoping that maybe she could get some assistance, but the Scepter, to Mira’s disappointment, was focused on her own fight. A trail of shimmering blue snaking from one of her hands like a whip. Jovie used it like one, too, wrangling a Cardinal by the ankle and pulling him to the floor, while another set of what looked like shards flew from her fingertips and into the coat of another enemy.
The Cardinal’s grip around Mira’s neck tightened. Mira tipped her chin down just enough so that her mouth was against the person’s arm and bit down into it. Fuzz from the jacket tickled her tongue, but her attacker cried out and loosened their grip just enough for Mira to duck and drive her elbow into the person’s stomach.
Once she had a bit of distance, Mira caught a glimpse of the surrounding area. Bodies, pale and peeling, littered the ground along the Eastern District, adding to its body count of residents buried beneath the earth, their skin like ash under the bright neon light of the cavern. Mira couldn’t see the Spectacle, but she could see the damage she left behind, each soldier dropping to the ground as if something had stolen their life away.
Jovie was holding her own. She’d gotten through four of the Cardinals before a fifth clamped what looked like iron around the woman’s wrists and kicked the back of her knees, forcing her down like a sack of bricks.
And Mira, wishing desperately that she had told her brother where she was going instead of brushing off his questions, found herself face-to-face with the Cardinal—a woman no larger than her—previously holding her in a lock.
The woman charged like a bull, all temper in her pale blue eyes and she’d started reaching for a clamp at her hip. Mira ducked uselessly with her hands over her head. It wouldn’t do anything to stop a bullet, but it was all her nerves thought to do. There were no shields, no crags of rock or stone nearby to hide behind.
She expected to be hit by something when the gun went off.
Except, she wasn’t.
Mira was certain it was a trick, some kind of illusion until she saw something bright and translucent materialized in a dome in front of her. It warbled at the contact from pellets, intact as the bullets ricocheted elsewhere.
There was only one being she knew of that could pull off a party trick like that. “Soma?”
Chittering sounded from nowhere and everywhere, the only confirmation of the jackalope’s presence.
And then, somewhere in the distance, Mira heard the bleating of goats echoing off the dirt walls of the cavern.
Hooves beat the ground, growing louder with each passing second. The shapes came more clearly into focus as Soma pushed the shield protecting them both out a little more. They were, to both Mira’s horror and relief, the familiar goats she and her brother loaned to travel through the mountains.
Relief came in the form of backup.
Fear arrived on its heels when she realized who their backup was.
Charging into the Eastern District atop the backs of the goats was Magic (she could recognize him anywhere) and Vallian, who situated himself on Jeralt’s back with all the grace of a practiced cavalier. He was half-standing, half-crouching with a hand gliding to his hip and, in one fluid motion, snagged a silver pistol from its holster.
Two shots rang out. The Cardinal in front of the shield staggered and dropped to a knee. When the second shot landed, a clean hit to the head, she collapsed to the ground, and Mira found herself glad to not be in the librarian’s crosshairs.
Vallian hopped off the goat’s back with the gun still aimed at their attackers; he carried it as though it were nothing more than a plastic toy, feather-light and harmless. Jeralt trotted on at a faster pace, freed from the additional weight, pulling slightly ahead of Magic and Bjorn, who stopped a few paces away.
Mira rushed towards the goat, wrapping her hands around the animal’s horns before scratching the animal’s chin. “Nice timing,” she said, already reaching for the saddle.
“Not my idea,” Magic said, nodding in the direction of Vallian, “but I’m glad we got here.”
“That makes two of us. Now go knock ‘em dead.”
Magic frowned. “In case you forgot, my knife is in a haunted graveyard.”
“With these.” Mira took the antler remnants out of her pockets, presenting them to her brother as she took a cautious look back to keep an eye on the fight. A small force field warbled in front of them and silently, she thanked the Spectacle’s foresight in protecting them until they rode off.
Magic turned the objects over in his hands, poking at the pointed ends of the stone before giving a somewhat satisfied shrug as he twirled them around, as though he were familiarizing himself with the weight.
Then he narrowed his eyes in judgment. He didn’t look pleased and Mira couldn’t blame him. The marble could shatter and leave him defenseless, and she knew he didn’t fight with his hands, didn’t throw punches like she did because of his sensitivities. But it was all they had and the small look he gave her, the silent That’s it? accompanied by a raised brow said more than any words could. Mira didn’t answer and Magic didn’t press. Eventually he pocketed one, kept the other in his left hand and tipped his chin towards the commotion.
With a silent agreement between them, they nudged their goats into movement. Bjorn reared slightly on his hind legs before charging forward. Jeralt took a minute to follow, pacing in a circle a few times and in that time, Mira got an idea.
“Soma,” she called, watching the pale blue shield falter, “jump ship with us.”
A small huff echoed, followed by something else swallowed by the noise. Soil scattered out to the sides as Jeralt made a low bleat, shaking out the fur on his head. Soft velvet brushed against Mira’s hand as Soma seated herself at the nape of the goat’s neck. Smooth keratin knocked against her wrist as the rodent made a soft grunt and Jeralt took off, his horns lowered, a loud scream from his mouth.
Hums filled the air sending a crackle through Mira’s blood like lightning. The talisman thrummed in her jacket pocket, like finding like; she felt her hackles rise, spurred by some form of adrenaline that accompanied her pounding heart.
Soma engulfed them in a field of blue as Jeralt swung his dual blades towards the Cardinals, scattering them in the direction of Jovie’s warpath. She dropped them to the ground with a swipe of her hand, sparks flying from her fingers in a cascade of blues and deep purples. It fascinated Mira, watching the stars come to life in the Scepter’s palms, co-mingling with the fear she felt at how similar it all looked to the fog in the Maidenwoods.
Combined with the weight in the air, the showing of stars. The chittering of the invisible animal that she could feel but not see…
You do not belong here.
The tendrils around her arms. Fog on her skin.
Traitor.
Something buzzed in her ear, a low shrill scream.
Stray little lamb.
A horrifying shriek and the sensation of falling snapped her back to the present; Mira snagged the reins on Jeralt’s saddle, pressing against the goat’s body as he reared up on his hind legs. He flailed his forelegs and staggered back, screaming and shouting so loud it made her ears ring. It wasn’t until the goat slammed his hooves into the dirt and started kicking that Mira realized he wasn’t just scared or startled. Jeralt was actively trying to buck her off his back.
Soma made a long, high-pitched whining sound and Mira screamed, holding on for dear life around Jeralt’s neck silently begging for the goat to calm down. She didn’t remember snagging on his fur or kicking him with her heel too hard. The outburst felt undeserved in the midst of the Eastern District.
Sparks flickered in the air, faint and pulsing like a heart around the animal’s horns. Jeralt’s thrashing became less and less until slowly, finally, the beast stilled and made one small rear up onto his hind legs and dropped on all fours, huffing and shaking his fur as if to purge himself of water on his coat and dry himself off.
All Mira felt was her heart in her ears, a violent, ceaseless thing that she felt in every pulse in her body. Her muscles were stiff and she forced herself to calm, stroking at the goat’s fur to bring herself back.
The fog was not a figment of her imagination; somewhere between struggling for control and getting Jerald to heel, a deep smog, thick and pervasive, had wrapped its curling tendrils around the entire cavern. Gunshots rang rampant, sharp bangs and high whistles, pellets finding targets in the dark.
Soma’s protection returned in the form of an all-encompassing dome around Mira and Jeralt, but it did nothing to block the sounds, the shouts of agony, the echo of lodging bullets, the long, deep bleat from Bjorn somewhere in the distance.
Blinded and useless, Mira felt her fingers twitch and fidget along the goat’s reins. Even Soma was restless; she could hear the Spectacle’s back legs thumping on the mouth of the saddle. Jeralt shook out his head as if irritated.
Fucking Cardinals, she thought, squinting to catch a glimpse of red coats through the gray smog. Limiting movement.
When Mira couldn’t bear to stay still any longer, she flicked the leather straps to urge Jeralt into moving. At a slow trot (so as not to step on corpses or allies), Mira surveyed the area, listening to the occasional chirps and growls from Soma who, with every huff, commanded Jeralt to move in a different direction, overriding Mira’s directive.
She supposed it made sense, two beings bound by stars to be in tune that way in the same manner Jovie had been, but she still felt the slightest bit betrayed when Jeralt obeyed the rabbit’s command and not her own.
After everything we’ve been through, too, she thought solemnly, eying the smoke as it began to clear away into nothing more but whispers of colored fog, tendrils curling, writhing, and dissipating.
Despite herself, Mira shuddered.
There were no Cardinals when the fog finally lifted, red coats and pompous attitudes long gone she supposed. They’d certainly left their mark; gray husks of human remains were strewn about along the dirt like leftover party decorations. No rhyme or rhythm to their placements, just discarded corpses in the wake of a failed attack.
Nearest some of them, Mira caught sight of her brother, sprawled out on his side beside Bjorn. Even from her spot at a distance, she could see the crooked angle of the animal’s legs, one of his hooves twisted.
Mira didn’t hesitate.
She kicked her heel into Jeralt’s side as hard as she could, ignoring the pained bleat from the animal as it galloped forward like a racehorse. Mira jumped off once she was close enough and ran the remaining distance, kneeling beside Magic as her goat sat beside Bjorn, making low noises that were muffled by the ringing in Mira’s ears.
With a hand on her brother’s shoulder, she took in the sight of him. He looked okay aside from a long bruise blossoming along his jaw and cheekbone from some kind of blunt strike to the face. She had a feeling he wouldn’t be pleased about his glasses, though. They were bent and crooked, one of the lenses cracked and broken.
She felt around his clothes, checking if there were any wounds she couldn’t see covered by whatever he was wearing. Mira patted around his coat, his shirt, his sleeves. The fabrics were damp and she stilled.
Her palm was red when she pulled it back.
No.
Panic buzzed through Mira’s limbs. She snagged her brother’s face, blood smearing his skin, and lifted his head up. “Magic,” she whispered, fighting to keep her voice calm.
When he didn’t respond, she tapped his face repeatedly. She couldn’t lose him. Wouldn’t lose him. No. “Magic,” she said again, “get up.”
When he didn’t respond a second time, Mira placed one hand on the back of his skull to support his neck, and shook him in violent, short bursts, the words vicious and sharp. No. “Avery Cooper, answer me.”
Magic’s head jerked forward and he mumbled something under his breath, but Mira didn’t care. She sat him up straighter and hugged him so tightly that her arms shook. His arms moved and when she felt him return the gesture, pressing his hands into her shoulder blades, Mira buried her face into the fabrics of his coat, allowing them to steal silent tears. “You okay?”
“Bjorn,” he murmured and Mira noted the change in his tone. It was distracted, not flat like it usually was. Magic sounded like he was whispering and ended the word on a question.
“What about Bjorn?” she pressed, not yet ready to let him go.
“Is he here?”
Mira squinted. “Bjorn’s here. He’s right next to—”
“Is he here?” Magic repeated, a drawl on his last word. He sounded so tired. “With us. Alive.”
She took a quick glance over the top of her brother’s head. The goat’s breathing was atrocious; his enormous sides shuddered with each inhale. It was the only part of the goat that moved. Mira didn’t know how to break the news—Magic loved that goat—so she shrugged her shoulders instead.
“I didn’t think he would. I thought … I didn’t think …” Magic dropped his hands and, with a bit of a delay, pushed against Mira’s hug. She let him go and watched his eyes wander until they landed on the pair of animals (or what Mira knew to be a trio of animals) next to them. “Bjorn took it,” he went on. “The shot. This”—Magic pantomimed uselessly towards his hands, stained a deep red with an iridescent shine—“It’s not mine.”
Mira blinked, dumbfounded. Rising to her feet, she peered over Bjorn’s massive body and, almost immediately, found the culprit responsible for the massive bloodstain on the floor that found a home on her clothes: four bullet holes in the animal’s upturned side. The mess clumped together the goat’s fur, wads of coagulated maroon creating massive balls of stuck together fur.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
“I didn’t want him to,” Magic mumbled. His voice was shaking. “He threw me off. And he stood there. Ori’s Feathers … I
The only saving grace were the sparks—the same sparks Mira remembered wrapping around Jeralt’s horns to calm him from his fit. Slowly, the wounds, gaping as they were, began to stitch themselves back together. Injuries became whole again, as if there were no fight. As if Bjorn had not acted like a shield.
Even Jeralt was shocked. He let out a loud bleat and stood, drowning out the low groan from Soma. Magic flinched at the cacophony of noise but made no effort to move.
Mira grabbed her brother by the arm and pulled him to his feet; he allowed her, though his balance needed work. Whatever affliction Magic had that left him so heavily disoriented made him complacent in a way that scared her.
She jostled his shoulder a little. “Mags, Bjorn will be fine.”
“But he—”
“Look, Magic; use your eyes.”
It was a bit of an ironic statement seeing as his glasses were broken and she knew that he couldn’t see well with the impaired eyewear, but he could still see. Mira could tell (once he focused) by the way his jaw dropped ever so slightly at the knitting wounds.
Mira let him go and watched him wobble the rest of the way towards the goat, watched him kneel by Bjorn’s face and lift it off the ground. He pressed his forehead to the goat’s without a word and ran a shaky hand through the tangled mat of fur at the base of Bjorn’s neck. The goat moved if only so that he could lick Magic’s face, closest to his eye.
One problem solved, she thought, trying to catch some glimpse of Vallian or Jovie; it hadn’t occurred to Mira that she had to run around looking for them. She assumed both the librarian and the Scepter were used to these kinds of problems popping up in the Districts and would come find her.
Then she remembered Soma’s words in the cavern, that the appearance of Cardinal activity was so low as a result of their merge that it baffled them both, and began to look for the Scepter herself.
Mira wondered, absently, when the last time they’d had to deal with a Cardinal attack was. When was the last time Jovie Miller had to protect other people with Soma at her side?
She doubted Jovie would give her that answer if she asked. That woman only seemed to be able to do one thing at all times: be a hardass and a stickler for routines and times.
The Scepter was sitting with her back against a broken marble pillar when Mira found her. Somehow the fight had managed to make the woman more pale than she was. In the woman’s hands was the sapphire crystal, pulsing a steady, deep blue glow like a heartbeat. Mira could’ve sworn she could see the lines of each individual vein beneath Jovie’s skin, but wasn’t sure if it was a trick of the light or reality. She couldn’t trust any of her senses these days.
Jovie was sitting with her eyes closed, mouth moving in rapid, silent words. She reminded Mira a lot of how Magic sometimes muttered to himself whenever he was searching the sky for blessings or praying to the mythical—real, she reminded herself—bird of the west. “How are you doing?” Mira asked when she was certain that Jovie had stopped.
“Dandy,” said the woman, tipping her head up. “How are they?”
What kind of question was that? Mira squinted. “How are who?”
Jovie opened one cloudy eye, staring Mira in the face with it. Heavens, she didn’t know if she could get used to that. “Them,” she said, motioning with her chin towards the bodies.
“Dead,” said Mira, matter-of-factly. “Why?”
“Needed to double check. Where’s Val?”
Why was she expected to know? It wasn’t like Mira planned on keeping tabs on anyone. As far as she was concerned, the only person she cared to watch out for was her brother. She just figured that Jovie and Vallian would have been prepared for this sort of thing. “I don’t know.”
Again, Jovie opened one eye to look at her. Mira felt the intensity, caught it like a spark, and felt her nerves buzz. “Did you look?”
“Last I checked, I wasn’t responsible for ensuring everyone’s safety,” Mira said, barely able to contain her spite. “That’s not my job. That’s yours, Celez Vesza.”
Now the Scepter snapped her head to make direct eye contact. Mira didn’t waver; she held the glare and watched the fire in Jovie’s eyes rage as the other woman pulled herself up to her feet. “Don’t call me that.”
“That’s your title. Act like it and do your job.”
“All I asked was a simple question.” Jovie shook her head and pushed herself forward, shoving past Mira without so much as an apology which only irritated Mira more. Not that she had much of a chance to say anything, because Jovie barreled on. “I didn’t ask you to rally the troops. I asked if you saw. Because if Val isn’t here, then that means the Cardinals did something to him. And if they did something to him, then we have a bigger mess on our hands.”
“What use would he have to the Cardinals?” Mira shouted, following after Jovie, who didn’t look like she heard. The Scepter just kept walking, looking around the cavern like a bird on alert. Mira could tolerate being ignored by her brother. She was used to that. But she’d be damned if the woman with answers didn’t respond to her, so she snagged Jovie by the back of her own coat and pulled.
The Scepter gagged and staggered back, pivoting so that she was facing Mira. It was all Mira had to restrain herself from acting out on a whim, so she tightened her grip on the jacket. “Give me an answer,” she hissed, each word a staccato. “Because I’m so damn tired of not having any.”
Jovie took a breath. She rolled her eyes and took a step back, brushing Mira’s hands away and resuming her walk. Mira had half a mind to tackle the woman, but stopped herself when Jovie said, “He’s a librarian.” The Scepter paused, as if that were enough of an explanation, and when Mira said nothing, Jovie glanced over her shoulder and continued. “It doesn’t sound like a problem, but it’s not the normal books he’s charged with protecting. Cardinals don’t burn down libraries looking for memoirs or textbooks. They ravage these buildings to erase mythology.”
The Scepter stopped, waiting until Mira was closer. “Val’s job is to protect those things. Guard them. And that isn’t even scratching the surface of it. If they have him, then the library is the next target.”
It was subtle, but Mira saw the way Jovie’s jaw twitched, heard the shuddered breath before Jovie straightened and ran her fingers through her short, dark hair. Almost like flipping a switch, the Scepter morphed into someone who felt far different.
It reminded Mira a lot of the mining captains she saw during the phoenix wakes that honored the unfortunate miners who perished in the too-common collapses. Straight-backed officers with flat expressions. Focused on the job and devoid of attachment.
She followed Jovie at a distance, unable to keep up with the taller woman’s quicker pace as she approached Magic, who was still sitting beside the injured animal. Bjorn looked a lot better, though his fur was still in rough shape, but Mira figured that this was the least of Jovie’s issues.
And she didn’t expect Jovie to take Magic by the arm to get his attention.
Warning bells went off in Mira’s head and she started to run, catching just bits and pieces of the conversation.
“Who did you leave her with?” Jovie was pressing, her hold on Magic’s arm tightening.
Magic’s eyes were wide and, while they lost the unfocused glaze from earlier, he clearly didn’t have the ability to answer in a timely manner, because Jovie asked the same question but slightly louder as if Magic couldn’t hear. Which Mira knew wasn’t the case because she’d just had a perfectly good conversation with him not more than a few minutes ago.
“Jovie,” Mira interjected, “don’t—”
“No,” Jovie insisted, “let him answer. He can speak.”
Magic squinted up at Mira, who only shrugged in response. When his brain finally caught up, he looked back at Bjorn and ran a hand along the animal’s horns. “A woman,” he said, shutting his eyes tight. “Taller woman. Blonde curls. Something about a book section in the back.”
Jovie cursed something low and long under her breath before sharply standing. “Soma, get the goats in working condition,” she said, to the dismay of the jackalope who made loud noises in adamant disapproval. If Jovie cared about the Spectacle’s fit, it didn’t show on her face because she continued making orders. “We need to get back. Now.”
The jackalope growled, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated the air around them as Jovie mounted Jeralt, wrapped the reins around her hands and snapped them to stir the goat into moving. Loose dirt rained down from the ceiling and out of the corner of her eye, she watched Magic shield the top of his head with his arms in an attempt to both block the incoming earth and make himself smaller.
“Soma,” Mira whispered, helping Magic to his feet, “calm down. Come with us instead. I’m sure Bjorn and my brother could use the help.”
The echo faded into the abyss replaced by the sound of shaking fur and Soma’s ears knocking into her antler. The jackalope’s presence was noted only by her shadow and the imprints of hooves and paws in the dirt. Mira motioned to the animal on the floor and, with a show of stardust, the Spectacle got to work.
Imagining what the Cardinals could have done to the Central District Library in their absence was a blessing compared to the actual sight.
The double doors, dented and riddled with holes, were tilted forward and swinging slowly from side to side, rocking on the hinges. Red stairs coated the marble staircase leading to the front door and Mira wondered what kind of people had been in the crossfire, stuck in the wrong place at the wrong time. A consequence in the grand scheme of things.
Beside them, Jovie was dismounting Jeralt, who huffed and stomped a hoof into the floor. The Scepter said nothing as she scuttled up the steps, nearly tripping over two in her rush, and Mira gently slid off of Bjorn’s back—she didn’t want to aggravate the animal’s healing injuries, especially considering that Soma’s presence was the only thing keeping Bjorn standing.
Magic followed suit and when Soma leapt down to follow, the sparks disappeared and the goat’s legs buckled. He dropped to the ground like a brick and Magic flinched, a hand outstretched to grab onto one of Bjorn’s curled horns.
“Leave him for now, Mags,” Mira said, tugging her brother’s jacket. “Let him rest. He isn’t going anywhere.”
Her brother didn’t say anything. He gave the goat a final pet on the head before following Mira up the steps and in the building.
It could have been worse; the bookshelves were still standing—most of them were, anyway. Somewhere in the distance, a case was leaning against another, a mound of books hugging the space between them. The library was eerily quiet, still enough that Mira could hear the goats bleating from the base of the front steps. Dirt tracked in from shoes was scattered along the mulberry carpet and the papers at the front desk were crumpled, ripped, cast aside as though the Cardinals had been looking for something that they gave up on. Muffled paw steps approached from behind them and Mira felt the brush of something solid against her leg, an animal paw on her foot.
Down one of the hallways, Jovie was running from room to room. Her footsteps reverberated along the walls, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as her shrieks, layered with panic, but worst of all fear. A fear she recognized all too well from her father’s own voice whenever she ran off to do something without his permission as a kid.
“Delilah!” shouted the Scepter from the top floor. “Delilah Grace!?” The pounding on the top floor paused, as if Jovie didn’t know what to do with herself, then resumed with the intensity of a stampede as she ran further through the library one level above.
Magic looked up at the ceiling as though he were seeing right through it. His glasses tipped backwards into his hair, pushing stray strands up off his head. “You think she’s still here?”
Mira shrugged. She had her doubts, but hell she wanted to be wrong. For Delilah’s sake, she wanted to be wrong. “I don’t know. Jovie doesn’t sound very convinced about that possibility.”
“She sounded like she was crying.”
“And I don’t blame her. Who did you and Val leave Delilah with, anyway?” Magic opened his mouth to say something, but Mira shook her head. “Your description wasn’t very helpful last time. Try again.”
He frowned, adjusted his glasses to sit better on his face. “A taller woman with blonde curls,” said Magic slowly, his focus flitting around the room. “She was tall. Wearing a red shirt with …” He trailed off, leaning a little to the side, not even bothering to continue his train of thought.
She didn’t know what grabbed his attention and tried to figure out what he was looking at. There was nothing obvious she could see until, after a while of searching, Mira was pretty sure she noticed what her brother had.
A smear of red on the carpet.
“Please don’t tell me that’s blood,” Mira said, her stomach twisting at the thought. Please don’t tell me that’s Delilah’s blood.
Pawsteps shuffled along the carpet, small sparks denoting Soma’s location as Mira and Magic followed behind at a distance. It wrapped around the side of the front desk towards the library’s center. And there, beside a cart of upturned books, was a blonde-haired woman with a red shirt, jeans, and tall, black boots. A ribbon of red cut a smile in her throat, blending in with her shirt and dirtying the rest of the outfit along with the floor.
Mira crouched, knocking into one of Soma’s antlers. “You wouldn’t be able to bring her back, would you?” she whispered.
Soma made a small, little grumble of disagreement before nudging Mira’s shoulder and padding off in the direction of the woman’s face, soft-footed and slow, as though the Spectacle were taking in the sight.
Magic tapped Mira’s shoulder and looked up at him to find a note in his hand. Her brother never was good at hiding his face. He may have thought he was, but she could read the worry in his eyes, the soft frown, the tiny crease between his brows. Whatever was written inside, it wasn’t good. “You … might want to read this. Jovie and Soma, too.”
Mira didn’t want to. Heavens knew she didn’t want to. But she knew she had to.
It was a small slip of paper, no larger than a sheet of tissue paper and each time she unraveled it, her heart stuttered, culminating in a ferocious drumbeat knocking against her ribs.
Celez vesza—
Surrender yourself along with the pet and the runaway with the Enhancer.
You have a day’s time—no more than that.
Mira felt her heart stutter. She didn’t like being included in this. She didn’t want to be included and it wasn’t fair that they were targeting her and lumping her in with this mess she wanted no part in. All of this mess over a pin and a power that not even the Spectacle could confirm she had.
All of it was a mess.
The note crumpled in her hands and she shoved the stupid thing into her pocket, not wanting to have it in her line of sight anymore than she needed it to be. Magic raised a brow at her, but said nothing. Her brother only stared at her with that quick, back and forth movement of his eyes, reading her expression carefully. Mira hoped she looked as angry and annoyed as she felt. She had no more energy left in her to play a part.
As if he could read her thoughts, Magic placed a hand on her shoulder. She closed her eyes for a moment, staying there a moment before tapping his knuckles twice. “Let’s go find Jovie,” she said, getting to her feet. “We need a plan.”
“We don’t have to go anywhere,” said Magic, who adjusted his glasses again, this time holding them purposefully out to the side. “She’s running this way.”
Sure enough, stampeding down the steps and rushing towards them was the Scepter, wild-eyed and red faced; she hardly looked pale and weak anymore. (maybe it was a trick of the light, then). The woman paused when she noticed the body on the floor and slowly sank to the floor.
Jovie cupped the face of the woman on the floor with a tenderness Mira hadn’t seen her show before, touching foreheads, brushing hair away from the woman’s face.
“Rest well,” she murmured. “May your soul find solace.” Only when she closed the stranger’s eyes and stood up did Mira notice that Jovie’s face wasn’t just a pale shade of red from running, it was beet red. Her eyes were swollen, making her white irises look like they were bulging from her face. Had it not been for the wild, dark brown hair still framing her face and maintaining the illusion of being put together, Mira would have been scared out of her skin. She heard Magic take a shuffled step back.
“What do we do now, Jovie?” Mira asked. “If the Cardinals raided here, they might come back.”
Suddenly, Soma chirped; Mira couldn’t understand a damn thing, but Jovie did; the Scepter frowned at each noise that followed before adamantly shaking her head. “No. No, Soma,” repeated Jovie, “we’re not going.”
The jackalope made a loud noise that felt half like a shout and half like a whining dog. Mira heard Soma growl before making a long series of unintelligible chitters, each noise making Jovie roll her eyes.
“Fine,” muttered the Scepter, standing up. “Don’t bother looking for your things,” she added as she pushed past Mira and Magic, who stumbled back into the cart. “Bring yourselves and don’t waste time. We’re leaving.”
“Leaving for where?” Magic asked.
“Don’t ask questions. Just follow. I … I’ll explain when we get there.”
You better, Mira thought to herself as she walked beside her brother and the Spectacle to the entrance of the library.
Jovie climbed back onto Jeralt while Soma rose Bjorn from the ground by presumably healing more of his injuries and giving him the overall strength to carry two humans plus a jackalope on his back. Mira sat with her feet dangling on the left and Magic copied her, facing the other way.
As Bjorn followed at a snail’s pace behind Jovie and Jeralt, Magic heaved a sigh. “I don’t like this.”
“I know,” Mira said. “I don’t like it either. I just hope that they’re both okay.”
Her brother only bobbed his head once in agreement and the two of them sat in silence for the duration of the ride.
The lights began to flicker as the Western District pulled into view.
Mira hadn’t wanted to ask, didn’t want to broach a delicate silence and detonate a very fragile bomb to satisfy her own curiosities, but the slow march into the western side of Subsidia certainly made her head tilt to the side in confusion. She looked to her brother to see if he had similar thoughts, but as usual, Magic’s attention was elsewhere, his head up and cocked to the left, probably to compensate for his broken lenses on the right side.
Even the goats were silent; Mira expected as much from Bjorn, who clearly wasn’t well enough to function on his own without divine intervention. Jeralt, though, was so quiet that the only noise he made were the occasional huff and the clopping of his hooves along the hard packed earth.
It wasn’t until a house was visible off in the distance in the midst of the encroaching shadow that Mira sat a little straighter. She recognized which part of the Western District Jovie was leading them to.
So when they stopped the goats on the side of a wide, gray clay house with two floors and a large space of property in the back, Mira recognized the stranger who opened the door to answer Jovie’s knock.
The man, with his short, stubble beard and graying hairs, stood in the doorway and took in the group, his brows rising with equal parts intrigue and equal parts confusion. “Bi’in sar?”
“Sara, Alaric,” whispered Jovie. “We’re in need of help.”