I ease my legs back into the water, careful not to splash. Afraid of disrupting the fragile surface tension between us. “She’s good.”
“I guess you heard about the lockdown?” He turns slightly, catching my small nod. “I just . . . I wanted you to know I did talk to Lyon this morning about us going to Amsterdam. He was supposed to talk to Gaia about it this week and let me know, but . . .” He rubs his eyes and swears under his breath. “For whatever it’s worth, he says he’s sorry.”
“I seriously doubt that.” Those bitter words are out of my mouth before I can call them back. Jack’s relationship with his old professor is dysfunctional and complicated, and any time I’ve tried to encourage him to take a step back—to see Lyon and his actions as anything other than altruistic—Jack’s instinct is to defend him. But I’m not convinced Lyon’s loyalty to Jack doesn’t come with a price.
“I know you don’t like him. I get that. But he’s not trying to make things difficult for us, Fleur. I can’t just ignore everything he’s done for us.”
“You mean everything he’s done to assuage his guilt.” A breeze snaps my hair across my face. Clouds begin to gather overhead, throwing shadows over the garden. “I know you want to see the best in him. But the first time I met Daniel Lyon, he showed up late to the battle he made us fight for him. To claim a title we secured for him. He didn’t so much as look at you as you bled out and died, so forgive me for not trusting him.” Jack’s face blurs behind the hot tears rising to my eyes, and I fight to hold them back. “As far as I’m concerned, Woody’s death, your death, Poppy’s death . . . Gabriel, Yukio, Noelle, and all the others . . .” I close my eyes, shuddering at the memories of them all. “Those deaths are all at Lyon’s feet. And just because Gaia gave two of you back to us doesn’t mean I’ll ever forgive him for that. Lyon manipulated us, Jack. Don’t ever forget that. And I can’t for the life of me understand why you would ever want to go back to him.”
“Because I can’t keep you safe like this.” Jack gestures to himself with disgust, as if every perfectly sculpted piece of him, every curve and every angle that’s perfectly fitted to mine, isn’t magic enough.
“What makes you think we’d be safe back there?”
“Lyon has my smaze. He said he would help me if I wanted to try to take it back.”
“You know how I feel about that. You heard what Gaia said. That smaze isn’t you anymore. It’s poisoned, Jack.”
“They don’t know that.”
“They might not, but we do.” We both know when it happened. During the ambush at Jack’s grandfather’s cabin, a group of Seasons had us surrounded. Julio and Amber had suffered mortal wounds, and my power was fading fast. The three of us were bleeding and dying, and in a final bid to save us, Jack had taken the magic from a dying Winter named Névé Onding, knowing she couldn’t be saved. Even if she could have been healed, I’m not convinced she would have deserved that mercy after what she tried to do to us.
The magic Jack took from Névé gave us the strength to survive the night. Only when we woke did we realize how Jack would continue to be affected by it. That guilt rode Jack’s conscience like an angry ghost. He still wonders sometimes—we all do—if a piece of Névé Onding’s soul clung to him that day. If it lingers in his smaze even now.
I can’t help but think that’s why Gaia told him it would be dangerous to reclaim it. Because that smaze isn’t truly Jack’s alone anymore.
“I know it will be painful, but Lyon said—”
“Lyon’s a liar and a manipulator! If that thing is broken and painful, why would he offer to give it back?”
“That thing was part of me!”
“It’s not a part of who you are now! Do you really want to risk that?” A tear slides down my cheek as he looks at me with such yearning in his eyes, a quiet desperation I haven’t seen in a long time. Suddenly, it’s like I’m staring at him through a chain-link fence, our hands clasping the wire mesh, our foreheads close but never touching. He knew what he wanted that night when I tracked him to that construction site, ready to follow the rules and end his season. He knew what he was willing to risk to protect me, so we could be together. He didn’t care that it was reckless and deadly; he had made his choice already.
“You want to go back anyway, don’t you? That’s what you want. To go back to the Observatory.”
“I would never leave you alone here. Not ever.” He hesitates, as if he’s weighing his words. “But what if . . . what if I wanted us to go back? Just for a while. Just to see—”
My head shakes as I cup his cheek, turning him to face me. “There was no us there, Jack,” I whisper. “It was you and me on opposite sides of the Crux, killing each other over and over. It was Lyon and Gaia making bets on the future of two lonely, hopeless kids as they gambled with our lives. And I love you too much to ever go back to that. We have everything we need. Right here. Don’t we?”
He nods into my hand. His cheek is warm under my palm.
I press my tear-streaked lips briefly to his, then retreat inside our house.
8
Those Who Favor Fire
DOUG
On the morning of the Dismantling, the last fourteen members of the old Guard are led from our holding cells to the ornate double doors of the Control Room, where we are positioned in a single-file line to wait. We’re restrained, our wrists bound in front of us like criminals, our hands covered in fire-suppressing mitts. Eight prisoners wait in front of me and Kai. Another four behind us.
Not as many as I had hoped, but enough.
Lixue is the last in line, shaking off the Guard as he fastens on her mitts. Our eyes catch over the heads between us, before our procession starts to move and I’m forced to turn around. Four of Lyon’s new recruits accompany us, two at the front of the line and two at the rear. In front of me, sweat darkens the back of Kai’s jumpsuit, her fear pungent and sharp.
I lean close to her ear. “I’ll be right behind you,” I murmur. Watching her. Making sure she holds up her end of the bargain. I’ve been screwed over before, too many times to trust her entirely.
She gives a barely perceptible nod. When the Guards open the doors and call the first prisoner to the dais, the line’s nudged forward to close the gap.
I count off seconds in my head. A full two minutes pass before the poor bastard’s muffled cry breaches the doors. It isn’t a wail of pain, but a high, gutting keen of loss as his magic is extracted and rehoused in one of Gaia’s creatures. My stomach sours as the screams drag on. It’s a good thing we’re standing on this side of the door. Otherwise, I might strangle the kid with my own shackles just to shut him up.
The short dark hair on the nape of Kai’s neck stands on end as the screams quiet. This will be her test. A test of her commitment, her courage, her loyalty to me.
“Now,” I whisper.
Kai begins turning in circles, twisting in her restraints.
“No! No!” she protests, her voice rising to a shout. “I don’t want this! You can’t let them do this!” The Guards at the back of the line rush to silence her. She throws herself to the floor, kicking and thrashing against their ankles.
“Back up! Give us room!” One of Lyon’s Guards shoulders me out of the way. He doesn’t notice as I slip his key card from its magnetic chain in his pocket. The prisoners behind me crane their necks, crowding forward to see. Lixue’s the only one watching me as I slip out of line, holding my restraints against my body so they won’t rattle as I back away from the scene. She doesn’t say a word as I clear the corner and break into a run.
Kai’s screams fade as I reach the entrance to the gallery. Taking careful peeks around the wall, I search for crows on the high perches near the ceiling, but the branches are empty. No bees or smazes are anywhere in sight, but a lone fly circles the dome. If it sees me, Gaia will know within seconds, and this experiment will be over.
I shake off my mitts, tucking them in my pocket and snapping a plastic button off the front of my j
umpsuit. Huddled against the wall, I toss the button as far as I can into the adjacent corridor. It bounces against the marble with a series of small taps.
Peering around the corner, I see the fly stall and change direction, disappearing toward the sound.
I move quickly, checking around every turn for Guards until I reach the Crux. Two shadows walk on the far side of the circular hall, momentarily obscured by the elevator at its center. I creep into the portal, matching their speed as I move through the Crux, careful to stay where they can’t see me as they patrol. Hugging the walls under the security cameras, I duck into the north wing. Security is lighter than it should be, and the sight of Lyon’s unguarded office is a shot of adrenaline to my confidence. He knows something’s about to go down. He probably stationed all his Guards in the east wing with him because he’s worried for his life. Which is exactly what I was counting on.
My restraints clank against the control panel as I wave the stolen key card over the scanner to the right of the door. The red light doesn’t so much as flicker. A message scrolls across the readout: Please scan second card.
What second card? Lyon must have heightened security while I was in stasis. Panic ripples through me. I grab the brass knobs and pull; the heavy wooden doors don’t budge.
“Hey!” a voice booms behind me. “You can’t be here! What are you—?”
I turn around fast, swinging my arms high. My iron cuffs slam into the Guard’s jaw, knocking him flat on his back. I straddle him, pinning his arms with my knees, my wrist restraints pressed against his throat as he thrashes. My hands are shaking by the time his head falls limp to one side. I rush to mute his transmitter, plucking it from his ear and stuffing it in my pocket.
Restraints rattling, I search his belt for his key card. Holding one in each hand, I wave both cards over the scanner. The red light flips to green and the locks click open. Grabbing the Guard’s motionless body under the arms, I drag him into the office with me and close the door, shutting us inside. A faint glow glimmers under his skin, his magic preparing to leave him. He’ll be dead in a matter of minutes. I won’t have long before someone in the Control Room realizes he’s gone.
My head snaps up as motion sensors trigger the lights. I freeze as they flicker on in quick succession—bookshelves, reading lamps, desk lamp, overheads . . .
Breath held, I wait.
The office stays quiet. No footsteps in the hall. No flashing alarms. Just the glimmer of the snake’s scales in the enclosure across the room.
The serpent writhes, its flicking tongue following my movements as I creep close and kneel in front of the glass, getting a good look at the shimmering facets of its eyes. If I had any doubts before that Ananke’s soul is trapped inside this snake, they’re gone now.
“I’ve come to break you out. You’re going to help me get out of this mess. But you already know that, don’t you?” I run my fingers over the lid, but it’s sealed on all sides. I search the room, my gaze landing on a tall, hooked reading lamp behind a leather armchair in the corner. Jerking the plug from the wall, I turn the lamp upside down and swing the base into the side of the snake’s enclosure. She recoils from the splintering glass with a hiss. I swing again and again, until I’ve chipped out a hole big enough for the snake to slither through.
Slowly, I set down the lamp, positioning myself between the snake and the only exit. Her snout emerges, followed by six feet of shimmering scales. She drops to the floor and raises her triangular head, a warning in the cobralike sway of her body. She’s bigger than I imagined, her jaws open, baring fangs like scythes.
“How the hell are we supposed to do this?” I whisper. I’ve seen Gaia take magic before, sucking it into her lungs like a vacuum. I knew this wasn’t going to be easy, but I hadn’t considered the size of those fangs. Or does it work like it did with Michael and the staff? Will I have to kill her to claim her magic?
Either way, I’ll have to grab her. My hands are sweaty, and I wipe them on my jumpsuit. The snake rears back, mirroring my movements as I inch closer, forcing her into a corner.
She hisses as I feint. Sweat trails down my temple as I dart again, aiming for the slender line of muscle behind her pitted jaws.
She strikes and I cry out as her fangs sink into my wrist. My other hand closes around her as she whips her body like a tail. I try to dislodge her, but her jaws are locked tight. The bite grows hot, like fire under my skin.
A horrible, throbbing pain seizes me. My heart pounds like it’s coming out of my chest and my skin burns, my desire for the magic pushed aside by the basic overwhelming need to survive this.
I squeeze, cutting off the snake’s air, remembering how Lyon held the staff as the lightning passed through it. How Michael had writhed and fought against him. I remember the blinding flash of light as the magic passed from one man to the other just before Michael died.
My skin around her mouth begins to glow. The magic spreads up my arm. White-hot lines of it radiate like forks of lightning under my skin. Just when I can’t hold back my scream anymore, the snake goes limp.
Her fangs retract. She falls against the floor with a heavy, dull thud.
I wince, blinking away tears, as the snake crumbles into a pile of ash. Breathing hard, I drop to my knees, struggling to focus on the two small punctures she left in my hand. My eyes feel strange, too sensitive to the light. It’s as if they’re trying to see the entire room at once.
I lunge for the floor lamp.
Dragging the base toward me, I search for my reflection in the lamp’s surface. Instead, I see Lyon. I see my face reflected in his eyes. I see myself, holding his staff. I blink. Blink again. The brilliant facets of two diamondlike eyes stare back at me from the brass.
By the time I turn to leave the office, the Guard is a shapeless pile of ash on the carpet. I keep my head down, my wrists held passively in my restraints and my sleeves pulled low to conceal the bite. My bangs hang limp over my eyes as I retrace my steps to the Control Room, moving through the halls by memory.
A Guard grabs me by the shoulder as I return to the line. “Where the hell have you been?” he mutters, dragging me back toward the others.
“Aren’t you supposed to know?” His sweat is sour, his eyes darting everywhere but my face. He’s afraid . . . afraid he’ll be held accountable for my disappearance. I fight the urge to look up and meet his eyes, curious if I’d see that fate reflected inside them.
“Consider yourself lucky. You’re up next,” he says, shoving me to the front of the line.
Kai’s gone, already inside.
I stiffen as a sharp, sudden cry pierces the door. I keep my head down as she wails. I was supposed to get back in time. I was supposed to go first. I hadn’t seen this moment, hadn’t looked for it in the lamp in my hurry to get back here. Every fresh scream slices through me. This is a test, I remind myself. And she’s already passed. It’s not too late to fix this.
After two more excruciating minutes, her cries fall silent and the doors are drawn open.
I already know what’s waiting inside. Already saw the positions of the Guards in my reflection in the lamp. Five of them, spread around the room—one team of Lyon’s personal Guards, plus the one escorting me in—leaving three in the hall, along with the four remaining members of Michael’s Guard . . . the ones who still have their magic.
The wall clock ticks behind us as we cut through the center aisle between the wooden pews. A crow caws from Gaia’s side of the dais. The menagerie of cages behind her desk reeks like crow shit and magic. The nine dismantled Guards who’ve been stripped of their power form a line of sour sweat in the front pew. Kai sits at the end of the row, closest to the center aisle, curled in on herself and shaking as Lyon’s Guard leads me past her to the front of the room. The air shifts, and her eyes narrow up at mine, glistening with betrayal as she lifts her head to watch me. I don’t linger on them. I can’t afford the distraction. I glance down the rest of the pew as I pass. None of the former Guards are wearin
g shackles.
The Guard pulls me to a halt when we reach the dais. Lyon stands on the short platform above me. I keep my gaze on the polished foot of the staff; my eyes shine back at me, a quick, dark reflection of what’s coming. The ends of the black velvet sash covering the eye dangle between us.
“Douglas,” Lyon says as the Guard removes my shackles. “There’s still time to make the right choice.” A crow shrieks, flapping against the bars of its cage. Gaia turns, distracted by its sudden fit.
“You left me no choice.” My pulse quickens as I lift my eyes to Lyon’s, and in them, I see what I’m about to do.
“I had hoped it would not come to this,” he whispers.
A smile twitches on my face as Lyon raises his staff. The Guard at my side looks at me askance, stiffening as his eyes narrow on mine. He reaches for my wrists as he calls out to the other Guards, shouting a warning. With a quick sideways thrust of my arm, I catch him in the throat. The room explodes in a thunder of boots as he falls. Guards sprint toward the dais. Not to me, but to Gaia.
She whirls at the commotion, knocking over a shelf of cages as the Guards form a protective line in front of her. Her eyes skip to mine over their heads. She lunges toward us, but the Guards hold her back.
“No! Get back, Daniel!” Static crackles in her hair. Crows and insects flee their enclosures, a flurry of black wings.
I vault onto the dais, leaping out of reach as Lyon swings the scythe at my chest. I’ve trained in close combat for decades. I’ve fought and sparred in every condition, against every kind of Season, using every kind of weapon, but this . . . My limbs react with a precision and speed I’ve never had before, dodging Lyon’s next move as if my brain already knows what it will be. The stasis sickness is gone. Every shape and movement, even in my peripheral vision, is cut into sharp focus. My shackles are off. The room, my body, my fate . . . they finally feel like mine to control.
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