by Elise Kova
That struck Jo as odd. “You don’t know how long Snow’s been here?”
Nico just shrugged. “No one does, and if he hasn’t told Eslar, he’s not telling anyone. The Society seems, as far as I can tell, to have always been around.”
Jo made a mental note to look into that one a bit more later—on her list of Society focused missions it was somewhere between “figuring out time” and “learn how to use her magic in a helpful way.” For now, she turned away from the window as Nico did.
Her eyes fell instantly on a large painting Nico had placed on an easel in the center of his circular rug.
Without really meaning to, she found herself walking towards it, breath hitching in her throat. Even though it was stylized, the colors blending together and brush strokes intermingling in a way that was clearly an artist’s rendering, the likeness was irrefutable.
It was a painting of the Texas skyline, the sweeping deserts in oranges and tans, the smattering of cacti and foliage in dark greens and bright streaks of yellow, blots of purples and reds playing stark contrast against their stalks.
It was a painting of home.
“Nico, what—?” Jo’s voice was strangely choked. When she looked behind her, Nico was leaning against the window, watching her reaction with a knowing smile on his face.
“I thought you could use some art for your room.” It was all he said, but even she could hear the layers of unspoken understanding beneath the words. When she raised an eyebrow in question, he just motioned for her to look back at the painting. “Go on,” he added. “It’s yours. Take a good look.”
Not quite sure whether or not she was imagining the mischievousness in his voice, Jo nodded, turning back towards the painting and taking a step closer.
It really was remarkable work, his artistic talent obvious. He’d managed to take an image straight from her mind and render it in near perfection with what looked to be no more than a handful of colors. In fact, the more she looked at it, the more she felt as though she was looking not at a painting, not even at a photograph, but at a memory.
She remembered quiet drives through the endless ribbon of road that was Long Horn, the wind turbines gently spinning as her mother drove past. As Jo looked closer, she could even see them, strips of white paint just barely interrupting the distant expanse of burnt sienna.
She remembered heat lightning cracking open an indigo sky, distant flashes of yellow sparkling with an aura of purples and pinks, swirls of light in rainless and cloudless heavens.
Empanadas and sopapillas and hot chocolate with cinnamon coated her tongue. Abuelita’s old quilt in all its sturdy, faded familiarity fell in comforting weight over her shoulders. The rumble of her father’s dirty pickup reached her ears. Jo felt her mother’s hands in her hair and her arms around her waist and all the indescribable feelings that summed together, formed the essence of home.
Colors became sensations that evoked memories she’d long and momentarily forgotten but had never stopped treasuring.
Her shoulders sagged under the soothing touch of nostalgia, the image on canvas blurring into her own recollection. There was a word for this feeling, she realized, something she hadn’t felt since she got here. Something she hadn’t felt in a long, long time, even.
Contentment. Not happiness, but a calm acceptance that her situation in life wasn’t just “not so bad” but pretty good, even.
It felt like letting go. And she felt better.
She didn’t need to ask to know that Nico’s magic had something to do with this. She could practically feel it vibrating beneath her skin, calming nerves she’d only been minutely aware were so frayed. In the back of her mind, she wondered if she should be upset, having her emotions manipulated so easily and completely. But this hadn’t felt like Wayne’s magic, struggling against invisible tethers. Every sensation was wholly hers; the painting merely brought them forth, played up certain things and dialed down others. Alongside the acceptance of it all was a deeper sense of genuineness, an offering of Nico’s that felt like more of a gift than an exploitation.
This was his way of welcoming her to the Society. This was his way of making her feel more at home.
So, with eyes still blinking from the fresh feel of hot air, the scent of desert still clogging her nose, Jo turned away from the painting and walked up to Nico. Without warning, she wrapped her arms around his waist, feeling him tense in surprise. Quickly, however, he eased into the embrace, hugging her back tightly and without restraint.
He smelt like fresh paint and cedar, his arms strong and warm. The realness of him brought her back from the deluge of memories, but did not sever the sensation of peace those images left in their wake.
After a long moment, Jo pulled back, running a hand over her face to check for any stray tears. Dry—looked like she was solidly back on the right track when it came to crying.
“Thank you,” she said, keeping as much appreciation in her voice as she could.
That knowing smile on Nico’s face only grew in response, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
He’d never know it, but he’d given her the greatest gift of all—cementing her resolve for what she must do next, regardless of the consequences. She may not exist, but that didn’t mean she was ready to turn her back on the home she knew.
Chapter 13
Rec Room
THE MANSION WAS quiet and the world outside its windows was dark—leading Jo to believe that it was, indeed, nighttime. Her watch corroborated the fact, reading just after midnight. But Jo still felt like she had to sneak through the halls.
She didn’t want anyone bothering her. And, in a house filled with people who didn’t need sleep, a distraction could come from anywhere—like Nico. Though that earlier distraction had been just what she needed. It had been a reminder of what she’d sacrificed for, and what she’d still fight for with any tools at her disposal.
Through the Four-Way, Jo’s persistent stride didn’t slow until she was standing in front of one of the recreation rooms. The empty shelf practically beckoned her to relinquish her watch and unlock the door. She’d seen Takako do this and while it seemed simple enough, Jo didn’t know what to expect solo. Nerves settled low in her gut the moment she tugged on the band of her watch and pulled it from her wrist.
It seemed strange that something so small could suddenly mean so much. In many ways, that watch was everything to her now (even if she didn’t fully understand how it worked as a portal to the real world), and she was just about to leave it out in the open. Even with Takako’s guarantee that no one else could touch it, she couldn’t help but feel possessive, maybe even a little reluctant to allow it to leave her fingers.
But Jo had a mission, and that far outweighed any fears she could have. She pulled off the strip of fabric and set it on the shelf, took a breath, and slowly inched the door open.
A low whistle escaped her lips; she certainly wasn’t disappointed.
Wall to wall were various pieces of tech. It was the elaborate set-up she’d been dreaming of after all, and then some. There were multiple towers attached to twelve monitors, stretching above two separate desks so she could run two entirely separate rigs at once, with a rolling chair to swivel between them. Routers gave her little neon-green winks, assuring her that she could connect to the world beyond. Brand logos she’d only dreamed of affording glinted at her in the low-light.
Honestly, it was a technophile’s wet dream, so far beyond anything she could have hoped for that Jo could only stand there and gape, practically salivating. Even with limitless imagination, she would never have guessed the recreation room could provide what was before her.
Once the initial shock wore off, Jo swallowed down her excitement and settled herself into the rolling chair, sliding with a small huff of laughter from one row of monitors to another, larger desktop screen. She reached for the pair of over-sized headphones that were hung on an eerily familiar peg in the perfect place, and pulled her jacket sleeves up to the second knuckl
e on her thumb. Even the chill was familiar.
The computer was already running, a soft hum filling the room, and when she went searching for suitable software, it appeared all her favorite programs were already installed.
“All right. . . come to me, Black Bank.”
If Yuusuke was suicidally hell-bent on glory, then Jo would see him succeed this time. She’d take matters into her own hands. Hell, she’d take them down first, if she must.
As if plunging a needle into a vein, the moment Jo’s hands touched the keyboard, she could feel magic and information flood her system, a transfusion of knowledge. She could see exactly what paths to take to gain restricted access, navigating blocked servers and sifting through unnecessary firewalls like following a straightforward, illuminated text. The entire stream of data was laid out before her—what should’ve been a tangled mess. Yet every string of information fell into its own line.
Hacking had always been a high for her, a sort of adrenaline rush at the idea of lifting the skirts of the most secure servers. And maybe it was a little bit of a power trip too, a smug sense of self-satisfaction knowing what she was capable of. But this? This feeling of her already impressive talent swelling into overdrive? It was intoxicating.
It was something Jo could lose herself in, and she did so gladly.
She was starting five steps ahead. She knew just where to look and she knew just what encryption the Black Bank used. Even if the world had changed enough for her to no longer exist, it didn’t change enough for the group behind the Black Bank—Incognito—to have altered their processes.
Much, at least.
“Oh, what’s this?” Jo grinned, leaning toward the monitor. “This is new.” She narrowed her eyes at the screen. “No matter. . . shouldn’t take more than a second. . .”
Jo continued on like this, conquering one hurdle after the next with an ease she had never possessed before. It was a sort of assurance that she could barely understand, but one that bred an assessment she was utterly confident in: this was her magic. And using it felt excellent.
“Well, someone seems to be up to no good.” A voice appeared at her side, far too close. In fact, Jo was so startled by the sudden presence that she nearly jolted completely out of her chair, turning awkwardly and rather ungracefully in its direction.
Pan was standing in the center of the room, eyeing the new layout with a glint of amusement in her eyes. She even went so far as to whistle in approval.
“Wow.” She grinned, and when she finally brought her attention back to Jo, it was with a look in her eyes that seemed almost impressed. “And here I thought the rooms had outdone themselves with Takako. The technological future really is a sight to behold.”
“Uh. . .” Jo looked from Pan to the accumulation of tech and back. “I guess?”
Pan smirked, all but frolicking about the room, fuchsia hair swaying behind her with each step. “So, what do you think you’re doing in here?” The girl leaned over Jo’s computer.
“I could ask you the same.” Jo tapped the keyboard and the monitor went dark.
“Make it come back!” Pan whined. “Don’t be so sneaky. I don’t like secrets, remember?”
“Maybe I don’t feel like sharing.”
“Be like that, and I’ll have to tell Snow.”
“That sounds like a threat.” Jo side-eyed the girl.
“That’s because it is!” Pan clapped her hands together, clearly pleased with herself.
Jo’s side-eye turned into a full-blown scowl. “I’m not doing anything wrong. We’re allowed to use the recreation rooms as we please.”
Pan hummed, bringing her index finger to her chin in thought. “I guess that’s true. . . But ‘as you please’ looks a lot like trying to affect the outside world. . .and that’s a big no-no.”
Her back went rigid and Jo balled a hand into a fist. She’d fight Pan if she had to. The woman-child wasn’t taking Jo’s work from her.
“How did you know what I was doing?”
“I didn’t.” Pan stilled, a smile widening across her cheeks as if trying to touch each of her ears. “Not until you kindly confirmed it for me.”
“Isn’t the job of the Society to change the outside world?”
“Only for wishes.”
Jo opened her mouth to speak again, but was interrupted a second time. She never thought she’d be glad to see Wayne, but she was. The fact must have been plain on her face, because Wayne’s attention shifted from Jo to Pan, and the first question from his mouth was, “What trouble are you getting into?”
“Me, trouble?” Pan gasped. “Wayne, you know I’d never. You should be asking her, not me.” Pan threw an accusatory finger in Jo’s direction.
“Back away, Pan.” The bass in Wayne’s voice startled Jo, and planted a warm feeling of endearment in the space her surprise vacated. “Go take a nap, or something.”
“She’s the one causing trouble. She’s trying to change the outside world.”
Wayne’s attention was back on Jo, threatening to destroy the fuzzy feeling he’d been earning a second ago. “All right”—back to Pan—“I’ll take it from here, then.”
Pan hovered for several seconds, clearly debating the idea. She folded her hands with a shrug and strolled out of the room. “This was becoming boring, anyway.” The woman-child paused in the doorway, looking back at them both. “Do make sure that you look after her, Wayne. Wouldn’t want the two of you getting into trouble.”
With that, the rainbow-haired girl left. Wayne watched from the doorway and whatever he saw must have satisfied him because he stepped inside the room and closed the door behind him. Jo met his searching eyes fearlessly, knowing what question was coming before it even left his lips.
“Just what are you doing in here, Jo?”
Chapter 14
Shewolf’s Mission
JO LOOKED BACK to her computer, tapping the monitor back to life. “I don’t see how it’s anyone’s business. But thank you for getting Pan out of here.”
A large sigh was let loose from her left. Jo kept her eyes on the monitor, trying to convey that while she may be appreciative of his help, she had no intent of having a conversation. Wayne either didn’t get the hint, or didn’t care, because he pulled up the chair from the other workstation.
“What are you doing?”
“I’ll tell you the same thing I told her.” Jo continued to work. While Pan had this odd way about her that made Jo suspicious that she understood far more than she let on, Jo was fairly confident that Wayne had no idea what the various folders or scripts meant. “I don’t feel like sharing.”
“Doll, don’t play that way.” He looked toward the monitor and with one stare affirmed Jo’s suspicions that he didn’t actually know what he was looking at. “It’s been two days and—”
“Two days?” Jo balked.
“Since anyone has seen you? Yes.” Wayne seemed confused as to why she was startled.
“Two days, huh?” She skimmed her work. “Pretty good, almost finished, actually. . .”
“With what?” he probed again.
“Didn’t I tell you I’m not going to share?”
“Don’t you know by now that I’m here to help?” He slung his own question back at her.
Jo leaned back in her chair, folded her arms over her chest, and swiveled to face him. She arched her eyebrows, assessing the man. He wasn’t wrong, not really. He had shown her around at first, and had taken her to see her family. She sighed, debating where to start.
“It’s Yuu.”
“You?” His brow furrowed in confusion.
“Yuusuke.”
“The gentlemen we went to see,” Wayne spoke with the confidence of clarity now.
“I wouldn’t call him a gentleman.” Jo rolled her eyes. “But, yes.”
“What about him?”
Jo looked back to the monitor and swallowed in an attempt to relieve the sudden tightness in her throat. “My wish. . . was for him. And my family by exten
sion. When we saw him. . . he was doing the same hack that led to our deaths. He’s going to end up back there. Depending on how stupid he acts—and believe me he can be quite stupid when he’s on a mission—he could be headed there in a week, even a matter of days.”
Jo could feel Wayne’s attention on her before he opened his mouth to speak. “You can’t stop this.”
“Like hell I can’t!” Jo’s head snapped back to Wayne and her sudden ferocity had him pinned down to a stunned silence. “Why? Why can’t I? You expect me to just sit here? To not help with the wish, even though I’ve already quite grasped the hang of my magic? And on top of that, to watch as Yuusuke gets himself killed, again? My wish will mean nothing. I will mean nothing!”
Her words seemed to echo impossibly in the small space. Jo’s chest heaved, as if trying to snuff the burning in her lungs. Now that she’d said it so simply, Jo wondered how she hadn’t seen it all along.
“Wayne. . . I’ll mean nothing.”
“You can help in the Society. You’ll always mean something.” His hands grabbed for hers, closing them both in a net of his fingers.
“If I can help with a wish.”
“You can.”
“Just not now.” He didn’t object to her counter. Jo shook her head. “Please. . . I’m not one to beg, but I’m begging you. Let me do this.”
Gravity pulled her chin to her chest and Jo waited, as if an axe that Wayne wielded hovered above the nape of her neck. She’d spent two days on this, and she was close, so close.
“What do you need?” he asked softly. Jo didn’t know if his voice had dropped due to the conspiratorial nature of the subject, or out of tenderness that she didn’t know the man could muster.
Jo’s head jerked up, and her heart latched onto the opportunity. “I need you to show me how to use time without having my watch on my wrist. I’m close, but all my prep work is for nothing if I can’t affect the real world.”