“Brazil is our test ground?”
“More or less. We’re trying to hurry, as we are worried about the missing clans. If we can at least get the platforms operational on a national level, we’d be able to contact them. Theoretically.”
“Yeah, theoretically. You gotta love the difference between theory and reality.”
“Are you coming back soon?”
“Within a few days, maybe?” I really wasn’t sure what the plan was. Did we even have a plan? Was I able to remember things like that after being awake for twenty-six hours?
“You sound really unsure of that.”
“Things are pretty much up in the air over here.” I heard a whooshing sound and looked up to find a very interesting bird flying overhead. It looked like a cross between a crow and a pheasant. An interesting mix, and rather striking. It landed next to me on the ground, ruffling its black wings as it settled, the pheasant head canting so it could look at me from one eye.
Reyansh loped up to us and made the introductions. “Imagineer, this is Yahvi. She is a chakora and very wise with constructs. Yahvi, our honored guests, Imagineer Zoya Mikahilov and her apprentice, Reagan Hunt.”
“A pleasure, Yahvi,” Zoya said with a duck of the head.
I gave Yahvi a shallow, seated bow and resisted the urge to hold onto my head. It felt like it would fall off, it was that heavy. “Yahvi, nice to meet you.”
Yahvi lifted her head and trilled back in a sing-song way that sounded musical and soothing. “And you, Imagineers.”
I lifted the phone so Jackson could see her and vice versa. “This is another Imagineer, Jackson Warren. Jackson, Yahvi.”
“Pleasure, Yahvi,” Jackson greeted pleasantly. “We’re grateful for your help.”
“It is a small price to pay for your aid,” Yahvi denied with a duck of the head. “Please tell me what must be done and I will be happy to assist.”
“It’s actually rather simple,” I assured her, returning to the column on the far right. Crouching in front of the column base, I indicated the notched panel and shifted so Yahvi could see what I was doing. “You pull here, and it falls off easily enough. Here, try it. I want to make sure you can get in.”
She hopped lightly forward, got her beak inside the notched section on the right, and gave the panel a good yank. It shifted half-out, and she switched to the other notch on the upper lip and gave that another yank. The panel fell obediently out.
“Okay, once that’s out…” I put the phone down and reached for the glass vial.
“Reagan!” Jackson yelped in warning.
I jumped in place, putting a hand over my heart. “OMG! Jackson, don’t scream at me. My soul almost left my body.”
“Sorry, sorry, but remember to put the rubber glove on.”
Oh yeah. “How did I forget that already?”
“Because you need sleep. And create a glove for Yahvi too. She’ll need one.”
Crap on a stick, didn’t think of that either.
Zoya, bless her, actually created the glove for Yahvi. I yanked mine back on and sank down again, reaching forward more gingerly this time.
Yahvi didn’t ask before she ducked under my arm and tried her hand—claw—at it. After some interesting body contortions—she didn’t have the reach, so it required some bird yoga on her part—she got one of the tubes free. With that one on the ground, she rustled her feathers, looking proud of herself. “I can manage this.”
I was relieved to see it. “We need to store these somewhere safe—”
“Don’t put them in a safe place,” Jackson protested, alarmed all over again. “We’ll never find them again.”
The man had a good point. I’d played that game with myself many times before and lost. Every time. “Jackson, you think we can leave them in here? Just put them down on the bottom?”
“Sure. As long as they’re not connected in the right spots, nothing happens.”
Then that was what we’d do. I pulled the last one and gathered them all in, refitting the panel afterward. “Yahvi, if you could do the same…or not. We don’t want someone figuring this out down there.”
“I will carry the vials back here and store them in the same place,” she decided for me. “That way we can restore the platform later, when it’s safe to do so.”
See? People who’d had sleep make smarter decisions than I did. “Okay. Awesomesauce. I’m going back to bed now.”
Jackson laughed at me with a perfectly straight face. “You do that.”
I stuck my tongue out at him (because maturity, meh), disconnected the call, and stuck my phone in my pocket. Then I looked up and realized Yahvi had already left. As well as Zoya. Unfortunately, I had absolutely no idea how to get back to my room.
Reyansh must have seen the confusion and despair on my face as he gave me his trunk again. “Come, Imagineer. I will guide you back.”
I beamed at him, accepting the trunk. “I like you.”
He laughed at me. Can’t imagine why.
After a solid eight hours of sleep, I felt much more alert and ready to tackle the world. I woke up at my leisure, took a hot shower, braided my hair so it didn’t go crazy on me—the humidity in India was no joke—and then decided I needed a follow-up with my father.
Which. Yeah. Still wasn’t sure how to feel about all this. I wasn’t sure how he felt about it all, either. The last time I’d seen him, he was still trying to wrap his head around magic being real, but he seemed more interested in facts than anything else. I couldn’t exactly blame him there. But I wished he’d done more than just check his facts.
Mentally girding my loins—for battle? An argument? I had no idea—I peeked into my father’s room. He was still there, only now he frantically typed notes into a laptop. I could guess what kind. Scientist still firmly in the driver’s seat, eh? “Hi, Dad.”
He glanced up, dark brown eyes blinking owlishly at me from behind his coke-bottle glasses. “You’re up. Good, I have questions.”
“Yeah, I bet.” I was still talking to the scientist. It was easy to see at a glance, as this was the man I’ve faced for seventeen years. I couldn’t even claim I was surprised. It was ingrained habit that made me ask, “Have you eaten already?”
“No, but they’re bringing something in for me.”
He’d at least thought about food, then. That was unusual. He forgot to eat regularly when he dove into something new. I might have to request a tray for me as well. I was rather hungry after sleeping the day away. But it could wait. A chance to have an open conversation with my father was rare. I’d be wise to take advantage of it.
I resumed the chair I’d sat in the first time I was in the room, sitting directly across from him. Then I settled in, as this might take a while. “So, what questions do you have?”
“Mom—your grandmother—explained most of the basics, I think. I want to know how much this magical world affects my dig.”
Of course he did. I felt a twinge of disappointment. But not surprise. “From what I hear? You’re basically excavating a magical community.”
That excited him. He nearly started vibrating in place. “Truly? What do you know about it?”
“Not a lot. People have dropped lines and hints, is all. I gathered that much from them. But Dad, even if I told you, you’re not going to be able to publish this. And won’t asking questions just color your perceptions and make it impossible to work the dig objectively?”
He made a face. “Likely, yes, but I’d still rather know the truth.”
I did appreciate that attitude. “Yeah? We’ll ask our hosts, then. They’ll be able to shed light on all this. You still good with leaving Mom in the dark?”
“I really don’t see a good reason to tell her. It’s not like it’ll impact her in any way.”
Even though that had been my reasoning too, I couldn’t help but feel a stab of disappointment. It was sharper and deeper than the usual disappointment I felt with my parents. But what did I expect, really? Since when had h
e ever felt it necessary to share any part of himself with me?
Maybe the childish part of me wanted to share my life with my parents. As soon as that impulse crossed my mind, I found it fading just as quickly. Was it habit to think so? Because the emotion didn’t linger. I could feel myself becoming more emotionally withdrawn from this conversation as we spoke, and I frowned a little at him. Why did this feel more and more like I spoke with an acquaintance instead of my father? Like we were meeting up casually for breakfast and to swap information?
Shrugging, I let it go. “Okay. You won’t have much longer here. We need to sort out a cover story for you and get you back to the dig site before things get really complicated. Your two co-workers who accidentally stumbled through the portal are already back. So whatever questions you have, make it quick.”
For the first time, the obvious question seemed to occur to him. “The platform…that’s how they got in?”
“Right.”
“Is it still active?”
“No. I told them how to shut it down. We won’t restore it until you’ve left the village.”
“You know how it functions?”
“I’m one of the people studying the platforms.”
“Why you? Does this have something to do with you being a—what did you call it?”
He’d been surprised before about my importance in the magical community, but I hadn’t really gone in-depth about what I did. “I’m an apprentice Imagineer. We can create things magically—whatever we can hold in our minds. There’s not many of us with that ability, and because of my master, I’ve been drawn into the puzzle with everyone else. It’s part specialty, part learning experience, and mostly availability, I think. Zoya is one of the few Imagineers who isn’t up to her eyebrows with work in her own clan. She’s available to work the problem. And she’s taken me along with her to learn at her side.”
“Is this something that’s a career, then?”
I almost, for a split second, thought he asked as a father. But, no, he was already taking notes again. This was a cultural question from the professor. I couldn’t help but compare his behavior to Klaus’s. My kobold, in this man’s shoes, would have first asked me how I was. How I felt about everything. What I’d gone through to discover my ability. He would have first invested in me, and then asked about the nuts and bolts of this career I’d embarked on. It was a sharp juxtaposition. And the comparison didn’t do my father any favors because honestly, I’d prefer to talk to Klaus right now. At least then I’d know I was engaged with someone who was emotionally invested in my well-being.
Was this just Dad’s default? Was he more comfortable responding to me on an intellectual level rather than emotional?
Shaking my head, I went back to answering his question. “Yes. An Imagineer functions as one from the time they are apprenticed to death, I think. We don’t really get to retire. The clan supports us on a salary since we take care of the odd problems in that region. If we do a job outside of the clan, like now, then whatever clans we help pay us for our work. It can get quite lucrative, depending on how insane the job is.”
“And this job? The one with the platforms? Who’s involved in restoring these to full functionality?”
“All of the clans. They’re pooling resources to sort things out. As you’ve no doubt guessed, the platforms are ancient technology. They were out of use for about a hundred years. We’re trying to get them back up and running. It’s safer for the magical community to use them as opposed to conventional travel.” Annnnd I’d just exchanged one set of questions for another. I could see it all over his face. “The mythology and history here, I can’t tell you. But the platforms I can tell you a lot about. Do you want to start there?”
“Yes,” he said eagerly, poised to take notes.
Well. This should be a switch. Me, having a lively conversation with my father and commanding his full attention. I fell into it, covering the basic history first, then elaborating on how the platforms worked. As I talked, he listened. A soft pang went through my chest as we conversed, a bittersweet feeling. Finally, I had enough common ground with this man to have something to talk about. We could never really be father and daughter. He clearly didn’t have the emotional attachment necessary to function that way. But maybe we could be friends. Friends who occasionally chatted and swapped info.
It wasn’t really what I’d hoped for. I’d put the stakes a bit higher than this. But at least it was something, which was more than I had before. And if that was all he could be, then that would have to be alright.
I once again was woken up by a rough shake of the shoulder.
“Reagan. Rea!”
Groaning, I flopped around on the bed like a beached whale. “Something better be on fire,” I groused to my master.
“Something is,” she answered grimly. “The Amazon is burning.”
Ever wake up in a second flat? Felt a lot like whiplash. I was upright before my eyes could properly get open. “What?!”
“The Amazon Rainforest is burning,” she repeated, already yanking me by the arm out of bed. “We have to get everyone out. Now.”
I scrambled for my suitcase so I could throw on clothes. I wasn’t doing this in pajamas. Then I basically tripped out the door, throwing my hair up into a quick-and-dirty bun as I moved. I found Ciarán waiting outside, shifting from foot to foot, he was so anxious. “What’s happening?”
He answered in quick, short bursts. “We got the alert three minutes ago. The platforms in Brazil are the only way to get people out of there safely and quickly. We need them up and running as of five minutes ago. Thais says she’s got refugees swarming the area already.”
This did and didn’t make sense to me. “I know people down there were talking about the platform and were all excited, but they realize it’s not fully operational, right?”
“No,” Ciarán corrected grimly. “What they know is there’s no other option of getting out. Nix firefighters are swarming certain areas, cutting off half of their usual escape routes. Animals are stampeding to get out. Rea, it’s full-on madness down there. They really have no other safe option except the platform.”
Which meant we really had five minutes to fix this and pray we could get it up and running before we lost people to smoke inhalation. Thirty hours of travel was a long time, but there was no ready way to shuttle Imagineers down there except by planes and Jeeps. Even with us flying in, we might be the more ready response team for the coastline. “Alright, where’s Mactep?”
“She’s getting your dad ready to go. As soon as he’s settled, we’ll leave. The other platform they found in Macapá, they need it up and working to handle the refugees.”
The Macapá platform? As in the other one we knew existed fifty years ago because it was on the map, but no one had actually laid eyes on in recent memory? That platform? I mean, seriously, the platforms had been shut down for a reason.
Fixing the platforms—that was the short-term solution. But the portals only connected to each other in certain regions. Basically, the two or three platforms in each country had the range to connect to each other. But not outside of that. It’s why the Imagineers of old had built the Hub to begin with, to act as an international station. The vast station (set heaven knew where) connected to a specific platform in every region, an international hub of travel. People couldn’t leave a certain area by just using the platforms, so if a country got impacted by a natural disaster—like now with Brazil—then they couldn’t escape it.
We knew something was wrong with the Hub, but they had shut the platforms down too when they closed the Hub a hundred years ago. That hinted at a problem to me. A problem we still knew nothing about, as none of the records explained why the platforms and Hub had been taken offline. We shouldn’t be using these things without testing them first. Everyone was in agreement about this, hence why we’d loaded up on drones and sent those through first. If they wanted the portals up so they could just cram refugees through, ignoring all the safety
rules, then…holy shenanigans, were we in that desperate a situation already?
“Ciarán, how much of the Amazon is burning?”
I hadn’t seen my pooka-guardian’s expression that grim since a wendigo tore through Astoria. Dark, deep lines around his mouth crossed his handsome features as he frowned. “Thais said the sky is black. She can’t see or even breathe without spells.”
And that answered that question. I gave him a bleak nod in understanding.
I ran to my father’s room and found him already being hustled out the door. I did something a little out of character for us and caught him in a quick, fierce hug. “Dad. Gotta jet. You take care of yourself, okay?”
He stared at me in bewilderment. “Surely you’re not going to be part of the first responders for this!”
“Of course. Imagineer, remember?” I gave him a cocky smile I didn’t really feel. “Be safe, love you, bye!”
He spluttered at my back as I darted back to my room. Suitcase, then a flight back, as that was the only sure way of getting to Brazil. Times like these, I wished the portals were functional. I could have gotten there so much faster if they were. It was a catch-22 situation, natch.
“But Reagan!” Dad called to my back. “What can you possibly do?”
I threw over my shoulder, “Everything I can!”
Really, I didn’t have a better answer than that.
It took three thousand years for us to touch back down in Brazil. Okay, it didn’t, it just felt that way. This knotted bundle of emotion and energy sat heavy in my chest, like a weight pressing in on me, demanding motion. I cycled through nerves, dread, worry, and determination in fifteen-second intervals. Like a pregnant fruit fly, I had zero attention span. As soon as we had wheels down, I took my phone off airplane mode and called Thais, literally bouncing in my seat. Come on, come on, come on.
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