by Rachel Aaron
“Oh, she won’t need it,” Bob said flippantly, shoving all three pieces of Marci’s bacon into his mouth at once. “You’ve got quite the busy bee of a mortal. She’s already up and about and receiving visitors.”
The ever-present knot of dread that had been temporarily banished by the amazing breakfast returned to Julius’s stomach with a vengeance. “Visitors?”
Bob turned innocently to Fredrick, who was hovering nearby. “Didn’t you tell him?”
“Tell me what?” Julius demanded. “What’s going on?”
The F looked slightly put out. “You were busy,” he said, pulling a familiar, slightly battered phone out of his pocket. “I didn’t want you to be disturbed during such a momentous occasion, so I took the liberty of intercepting your calls.”
“So you stole my phone?” Julius cried, snatching what was obviously his phone from the F’s hand.
“I didn’t steal anything,” Fredrick growled, back perfectly straight. “I was merely holding it for you to reduce distractions. You are a member of the Heartstriker Council on very important business. We cannot afford to let anything put you off course.”
Julius ground his teeth. That phone had been in the front pocket of his suit coat, the one right over his heart. He had no idea how Fredrick could have taken it without him realizing, or why the F had thought it would be a good idea in the first place. Then again, though, this was a very different world than the one Julius was used to. Maybe high-ranking dragons handed over their phones to their assistants all the time?
But while that might explain Fredrick’s actions, it didn’t feel right to Julius. No dragon, high ranked or low, would ever allow an underling to take what was theirs without permission, and while Julius was not a typical dragon, he didn’t like it either.
“Please don’t do that again,” he said firmly, glaring at the F, who looked unrepentant. “I know you meant well, but I can take my own calls.” He glanced down at the screen, but other than a notice that Marci had called, there was nothing about why. “What did she say?”
“Just that she was going to lunch with a friend,” Fredrick replied. “And before you ask, she did not say with whom.”
Probably because she was rightfully pissed at being cut off from Julius by a dragon she didn’t even know. Fortunately, the vague message still told Julius everything he needed to know. There was only one dragon in the mountain good enough to sneak into Chelsie’s room and whom Marci would call friend. Looked like he was going to be paying yet another visit to Amelia’s trapped cave.
“Not that this is ever happening again,” he said, sliding his phone carefully into his pocket. “But for the record, Marci is always priority. She’s my best friend and partner. If she calls, messages, or just shows up, it doesn’t matter what I’m doing. I want to know. Immediately.”
“Understood, sir,” Fredrick said crisply. “It won’t happen again.”
That would have been more believable if the F had looked even slightly ashamed of what he’d done. Unfortunately, the only thing he seemed bothered about was that Julius was making such a big fuss out of it. Shaking his head, Julius made a mental note to work with his new “assistant” on treating humans like people rather than pets and started for the door, waving to Bob, who was just polishing off the last of the food that had been meant for Marci.
“Thanks for the tip.”
“I am a most generous tipper,” the seer replied with a humble smile. “Give my regards to Amelia.”
Julius nodded and walked out the door, holding it open for Justin and Fredrick, who were apparently coming with him whether he wanted the company or not. That just made him sigh again, muttering under his breath about councils and ridiculousness as he started down the hall toward the elevators.
***
Amelia’s hall was every bit as dark, trapped, and scary as Julius remembered. He didn’t have Chelsie with him this time, either. A serious problem since he didn’t remember exactly where all the web-like traps she’d led him around were hidden.
“She’s almost as paranoid as Chelsie,” Justin muttered, sniffing the air above the first trap. “This place is warded to the teeth.”
“What else would you expect?” Fredrick asked. “Amelia didn’t survive eight centuries as Bethesda’s heir by accident, you know.”
“Well if you’re so impressed, what do we do?” Justin growled. “Stand here and yell until she comes out to let us in?”
“Actually,” the F said, reaching into his pocket. “I have a much better solution.” He held up a small, rectangular wooden object the size of a bookmark that was covered on both sides with scrawled dragon magic that reeked of Amelia. “This will get us through.”
“What is it?” Julius asked, squinting in the dark.
“A guarantee of safe passage,” Fredrick explained. “The Planeswalker sent them to everyone in F-clutch yesterday to limit interruptions to her work.”
That made sense. Someone had to set up all those banquet tables and keep Amelia supplied with liquor. “How does it work?”
“Observe.” Fredrick turned and stretched out his arm, dangling the little talisman over the first invisible trap. Sure enough, the moment the wooden markings got close to the ward, the sharp magic retracted like claws, leaving the hallway clear.
“I’ve already determined the pass has a three-foot range,” he said as he returned the talisman to his pocket. “So long as you stay next to me, you should be perfectly safe.”
“There’s nothing safe about a pass from Amelia,” Justin growled, but he stayed just as close to Fredrick as Julius did, following right on the tall dragon’s heels as they shuffled down the hall to Amelia’s warded door. As with everything else, the menacing wards on the doorway dimmed the moment Fredrick got close. The actual lock was handled with a key from his key ring. He’d barely gotten it open before Justin barged in, throwing the door open and barreling inside only to stop in his tracks.
Julius immediately understood why. Even standing behind his massive brother, just being near Amelia’s dark room felt like standing on the edge of an abyss.
There were no tiki torches this time, no light bulbs or candles. Even the morning sunlight from her balcony had been completely blocked off by heavy curtains, leaving the cave drenched in a darkness that felt both suffocating and endless, interrupted only by the dragon standing at its heart like a lone star in the night.
Amelia stood in the middle of her room, her body wreathed in tongues of orange flame as she glared down at the multiple casting circle painted in ash on the stone floor. Julius counted five in total, each one overlapping the others to form a sixth, larger circle. At the point of convergence in the center, Frieda, their mother’s secretary, was sitting curled up in a ball on a metal folding chair, looking like she was fighting not to cry.
“Amelia!” Julius cried when he recovered his voice at last. “What are you doing?”
His sister jumped, and the orange fire faded. The feeling of the endless abyss faded with it, leaving only the normal gloomy dark of a curtained room before Amelia snapped her fingers, and another light, a perfectly normal flicker of dragon fire this time, appeared above her head. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you to knock?”
The question came out in a growl, but Julius was too distracted by his sister to care. “What happened to you?”
Amelia looked horrible. He hadn’t noticed it in the spell fire, but now that she was normally lit, it was impossible not to see how hollow her face looked. Her cheeks were sunken pits below the knives of her cheekbones, and her skin looked almost gray. Her normally shiny black hair was a dry, tangled knot hanging down her back, and what he could see of her arms beneath her red long-sleeved T-shirt looked skeletal, like she hadn’t eaten in weeks. Given that she’d been perfectly fine last night—tired and drunk, sure, but definitely nothing like this—that was enough to put Julius in a panic, and he rushed to her side. “Are you sick?”
“I’m fine,” she said, waving him away. “I’ve
just been working.”
“Working on what?” Justin snarled, nodding toward Frieda, who was only now uncurling from her ball thanks to Fredrick, who’d rushed over to help. “Sacrificing Fs to your dark god?”
“Please,” Amelia said, pulling a flask out of the pocket of her ripped jeans, which were clearly meant to be tight but were now hanging loose from her protruding hips. “I’ll have you know there isn’t a dark god for twenty planes who could afford me. This is a private project. One for you guys, actually.” She pointed two fingers at her own warm, brown eyes. “I thought it was time I finally took a real crack at breaking Mother’s green chain.”
That sounded like a worthy project to Julius. But. “Why are you using Frieda?”
“Is that her name?” Amelia asked, taking a long drink off her flask. “I’ve had a stream of Fs coming in since you left yesterday. I can’t be bothered to remember them all.”
“A stream of Fs,” Julius repeated, dumbfounded. “Why?”
“Because they’re the easiest to get,” she said with a shrug. “Ideally, I’d prefer to use another clutch. The Fs are positively pickled in Bethesda’s magic, which makes narrowing down the specific curse that controls the eyes that much more difficult. Alas, Ian’s got everyone under G whipped into a froth, and older dragons are so much trouble. They always want something in return, and when you need a large sample size, the whole thing just turns into a mess. That’s what makes Fs the best. They can’t say no.”
She paused, clearly expecting Julius to congratulate her on finding such a clever work-around, but Julius could only stare at her in horror. “So you’re using them for magical experiments because they can’t say no?” he bit out at last. “How is that different from slavery?”
“I guess it’s not, really,” she admitted. “But they’ve been slaves for six centuries now, so I figured, if it’s already that bad, why not use it to do some good? It’s not as if I’m abusing them.” She waved her flask down at the ash circles. “The magic’s not harmful. It stings a bit, sure, but you can’t prod the limits of a curse implanted before birth without a little discomfort. I even let them take turns so that no one has to be in the hot seat for more than two hours. That practically makes me a saint by F-clutch standards.”
Julius couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He knew that F-clutch had the short end of the Heartstriker stick, but once again, he was shocked to see just how short that end could be. Though at least this explained why she’d given Fredrick a pass. And speaking of Fredrick. “Have you had to do this, too?”
“I took a turn last night,” he replied with a nod. “It’s not pleasant, but not as bad as some.”
The resignation in his voice made Julius even angrier, and he turned on his sister with a glare. “Amelia,” he said firmly. “I’m all for you breaking the green-eye thing Mother put on us, but you can’t abuse F-clutch like this. This is exactly the sort of thing we formed the Council to stop!”
“I just told you, I’m not abusing them,” she argued. “I’m using them. I’m practically doing them a favor, here! If I wasn’t using them, they’d just be off getting used by another dragon, and like I said, I’m a cakewalk compared to most.”
“She is better than Bethesda,” Frieda said, looking up at Julius from where she was clutching her brother.
“That’s not saying much,” Julius growled, turning back to Amelia. “I can’t let you—”
“And there’s our problem,” Amelia said, walking over to flop down in the folding chair Frieda had just vacated. “You don’t let me do anything, Baby-J. Until your Council’s up and running, you can’t order me to do diddly. Now I’m sure you’ve got buckets of change in the pipe, but until they actually get here, I’m going to use the resources I have, and on that note.” She turned to Frieda. “You’re off the hook until tomorrow, but make sure you send the next one up on your way out. I’m only taking a five-minute break.”
“Yes, Planeswalker,” Frieda said, lowering her head as she slunk past Julius out the door.
“You look like you need a lot more than five minutes,” Julius said when she was gone. “F-clutch issues aside, I don’t think what you’re doing is good for you either, Amelia.”
“What? You mean this?” She pointed at her sunken cheeks. When he nodded, his sister began to cackle. “Bethesda wishes she could get me this bad! It would take a dragon mage at the height of her power to drain me like this. Mother can’t even break the seal I put on her while I was mind controlled.” She stopped to wipe her eyes. “No, no. Breaking the green eyes is just a vanity project, something to kill time while I wait for bigger fish to finish frying. This whole heroin chic look I’m rocking right now is Marci’s doing.” She frowned. “Where is she, anyway?”
Julius’s heart began to pound. He’d been so surprised by what he’d found when they’d walked in, he’d completely forgotten why he’d come up here in the first place. “I thought she was with you.” He stared at his emaciated sister. “How did Marci do that to you?”
Amelia’s brows furrowed. “You mean she didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?” Julius asked, his body shaking with anger that rapidly transformed into guilt. Marci hadn’t told him anything, but when would she have had a chance? He’d been practically ignoring her since yesterday morning.
“Well, if she didn’t tell you, I’m not saying anything,” Amelia said, crossing her arms over her chest. “I know better than to get in the middle of couples’ fights. But before you freak out too hard, rest assured that Marci didn’t actually do anything other than graciously agree to go along with my plan, which means I really did this to myself.” She lifted her head proudly. “Like I said, dragon mage at the height of her power.”
Julius couldn’t understand why anyone would willingly make themselves look that sickly, but Amelia didn’t seem upset about it, so he set the rest of his questions aside for later and moved on to the more immediate problem. “So you don’t know where Marci is?”
Amelia shook her head. “I wouldn’t worry too much, though. She’s probably just out exploring the mountain.”
“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of!” Julius cried. “Do you know how many dragons hate my guts right now?”
“If any dragon in this mountain is stupid enough to mess with Marci, they deserve what they get,” Amelia said with a wry smile. “You need to remember who you’re talking about. This is the mage who killed Vann Jeger and, even more impressive, stood up to me. And let’s not forget her extremely dangerous and protective spirit.” She grinned wide. “Trust me. Anyone who picks a fight with Marci is going to find themselves holding the wrong end of the cat.”
That was all true, but Julius was more worried than ever, because Amelia was right. If Marci was cornered, she’d fight back, and it would make everything worse. Not only would she be in danger, fighting would earn her enemies of her own, and Julius didn’t even want to think about the damage it would do to his own push for nonviolent change if his mortal ended up killing one of his siblings inside their own mountain.
There was nothing else for it. He’d just have to find her first, before anything happened. He was about to say good-bye to Amelia to go do just that when a cold shiver ran up his spine.
It wasn’t a physical cold. There was no water or metal or anything else sliding up his back. It was just a feeling, like someone had stepped on his grave. He was about to brush it off as nerves when Justin growled.
“What was that?”
Fredrick’s head snapped up. “You felt it, too?”
“I think we all did,” Julius said warily, looking at Amelia, who was grinning in a way that made him very uncomfortable.
“Speak of the devil,” she said, reaching down to run her hand through the shadows that were crawling over the ground. Shadows that, despite the darkness of Amelia’s closed room, Julius was positive had not been there before. “I think our little Marci just played her hand.”
“Really?” Justin said, kicking the
strange darkness with his boot. “’Cause I never saw a human spell do this.”
“I have,” Julius whispered, staring at the shadows, which he could now see weren’t actually crawling over the ground at all. It was hard to see in the sputtering light of Amelia’s fire, but Julius’s night vision had been good even when he was sealed. Unsealed, he could clearly see that the shadows were moving through the floor, not over it, and more importantly, they weren’t shadows at all. They were humans. Hundreds of them. An entire army of transparent, ghostly people moving through the stone floor like swimming fish, their faint shapes fluttering in a wind no one but they could feel.
That was enough to send a second chill up his spine, and Julius grabbed his brother so hard Justin snarled. “We have to go. Right now.”
“What?” Justin said, prying Julius’s hand off his arm. “Why? They’re just—hey!”
Julius was already out the door, pausing only to grab a confused Fredrick before he plunged into the trapped hall. A moment later, Justin charged after them, yelling loudly at his brothers to wait.
“Say ‘hi’ to Marci for me when you see her!” Amelia called, holding up her flask in salute before shutting the door behind them with a knife-sharp blast of magic.
***
Meanwhile, ten minutes earlier and multiple floors below, Marci was struggling with a very different problem. Namely, the fact that she was completely and utterly lost.
“This is ridiculous,” she muttered, staring up the endlessly spiraling industrial stairwell the one human servant she’d found would talk to her had sworn would take them outside. “The floors aren’t even numbered! How are you supposed to know when you get to the right one?”
We’ll find it eventually, Ghost said, bounding soundlessly down the stone stairs in front of her. There’s only one ground floor.
“And eighty million others,” she said, leaning over the metal railing to peer down the empty center of the enormous stairwell, which seemed to go just as far down as the spiral above went up. “I can’t even tell if we’re above ground or below. I don’t suppose you could ghost through the stone and go check?”