by K W Quinn
“Quiet, kid, this is more art than science, and I need to concentrate. Tell me a bit more about this other kid. Gotta know what I’m saving.” The muse leaned back in his wheelchair and waited.
“Oh. Andy. Uh, he’s kinda on the short side. Muscular.”
“Not his police description. What he’s like. What he means to you.” Min scratched at his chin and squinted. The incense in the shop smelled woodsy and clean. Like Andy’s living room.
“He’s great at making friends, and everyone loves him. We take care of each other.” Cass licked his lips and shook his head a little. “No one believes that he’s got a temper, but he’s kicked my shins like a million times. I can tell him anything, and he never gets weird about it. He can absolutely keep a secret and hold a grudge.”
The muse had his eyes closed, fists balled up on his thighs. Cass kept going.
“He’s a Helio. Can’t handle a lot of heat, but he’s always trying to push his limits. Thinks he’s got to be the best at everything, but he doesn’t realize how good he is. Placed first all the time in gymnastics as a kid, but he thought it was only because the competition sucked. He can’t take a compliment, like, at all. But he lives to be praised. One time, he—”
Cass stopped. He cleared his throat and tried to think of more tangibly helpful things. He wasn’t gonna spill Andy’s secrets to this cranky muse.
“He works at the Water plant with the generators doing something with converting energy that I don’t understand. Is any of this helpful?”
“Sorta. Do you know anything about the fight?” Min didn’t open his eyes, but he did relax his hands a little.
“Not really. The witch who collected Andy said he would be expensive, but she wanted to put his muscles to the test. She said that the champion needed fresh meat. Andy is fast. And flexible. But I don’t know anything about the other fighters. Andy’s not a fighter. He might be strong, but he can’t throw a punch.” Cass’s knuckles ached as he thought of all the times he’d stepped between Andy and this town’s petty bullies. Fire kids had tempers, and Andy picked fights. But Cass ended them.
“When was he taken?”
“This morning.” The memory of Andy screaming still filled Cass’s ears. The counter reflected the light from the sunset outside, sinister and bright.
“What took you so long?”
Cass’s eyes snapped to the muse. His smug face was close enough to slap, but beggars couldn’t afford to be proud. Cass gritted his teeth and tried to sound calm. “I didn’t know what to do. I tried to follow them to break him out, but—”
“Earth security isn’t gonna be broken by one scrawny Air kid.”
Cass swallowed hard and nodded. He let his curiosity spill out a little. “What do you need a soul for anyway?”
“Other than balancing the books? I don’t wanna kill you, kid.” Min rubbed his hands on his pants. “Inspiration like this isn’t cheap, and souls are expensive shit if you know the right people. Trust me, it’s better this way. Now be quiet a minute while I think.”
Cass tucked his hands underneath his thighs and bit his lip. Min closed his eyes and mumbled something to himself. Cass tried counting anything he could, but his eyes seemed to drift, and his brain spun uselessly. The music Min had put on seemed to come from everywhere. It was soothing and a little sad.
Finally, Min coughed and stared Cass in the eye. “Right. I hate doing it like this, but there are a lot of ashy situations around, so it’s time to sign.”
He flourished the quill and curled one end of the wires he’d extracted earlier around it. He waved Cass toward the counter and maneuvered his wheelchair through it.
“It actually is life and death?” Min still sounded surprised. Cass tried to look him in the eye to show him sincerity and honesty, but Min was winding wire around the quill.
“I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t.” Cass rubbed the back of his achy neck.
Min tipped his chin up and squinted at Cass. “You sure you don’t need some cash to bail out another reckless youth? A test you need to ace to get into Daddy’s alma mater? A way to make an unwanted pregnancy disappear?”
“What?” Cass shook his head, trying to clear the hair out of his eyes to be taken seriously. He lifted his chin and stood as tall as he could. He might be scrawny, but when he remembered his posture, he was broad shouldered enough. “No. No, this is important.”
“Important is subjective, kid. What’s desperate enough to pay my prices varies greatly. Starvation, failing school—it all matters who you ask when it comes to what’s worth a sacrifice. Those are the easy ones. Spoiled rich kids willing to pay out the nose to make problems go away. And they do pay, as much as I can squeeze out of them. You don’t look like the life-and-death kind.”
“What does that mean? What do I look like?” Cass spread his hands. Better to face the insults head-on.
Min wrinkled his nose. “Floppy hair, feather tattoo, face like that—”
“Like what?” Cass challenged. He knew. He’d heard it all before, but he wanted to hear Min say it.
“Like a half-nymph. Sex and innocence.” Min’s smile wasn’t kind. “You look like a good kid from a nice neighborhood who doesn’t know how to handle real life.”
“Well, you’re half right. My neighborhood isn’t all that nice,” Cass sighed. Half-nymph was kinder than some of the names he’d been called. He rubbed the feather tattoo on his wrist with his thumb. It was stupid to walk around with such an obvious warning sign. He might pass for a Water or a Fire if he tried a little harder.
Pointing to a section of the glass counter, Min said, “So, gimme your word that you understand what’s about to happen. You are offering your soul freely and without coercion in exchange for the inspiration that will allow you to save your friend from death and a life of slavery.”
Cass nodded quickly.
“Not enough, kid. I need actual verbal consent.”
“Yeah. Yes. I give you my soul freely to save Andy.” Cass’s hands hung useless at his sides.
“Great. So, to make sure this all happens the way we both want, you sign here. Gotta warn you, though. It’s gonna hurt. You sign in blood.”
“Of course I do.” Cass reached for the quill, and Min held the wire in his hand. There were no papers. “But where do I sign?”
Min gestured toward the counter. “Right on the glass. Helps me find you in case there is trouble afterward. There won’t be any trouble, will there?”
“No. Can’t think of any.” Cass tried to keep his mind clear of his desperate search for a loophole. He didn’t want to be caught thinking about all the places he could run to. Didn’t want his face to give anything away.
“Don’t run, kid. It’s worse if you do,” Min sighed. “Come see me, we’ll do it quick, and it’ll be over with. If you run . . . Look, I don’t like the methods, but the ends justify the means, you know? So, just don’t run. I hate dealing with the Sharks. And no one wants to call on the Dragons.”
“Aren’t dragons extinct?” Cass tilted his head to the side.
Min pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. “Not real dragons. By Athena’s grace, what do they teach kids these days? My point is running is a bad idea. You don’t want that kind of trouble.”
Cass nodded and pressed the quill to the glass. Calisto Enlil Argi. It was a hell of a name—too fancy, too foreign, too wild. He scratched it into the glass and felt the letters burn across his chest. He clenched his teeth to keep from whimpering. When it was done, he set the quill down without his usual flourish.
Min was grimacing too. “Great. Now you’re bound to me until you surrender your soul.” Min rubbed at his chest and let his end of the wire drop.
Cass wanted to scratch at his chest, rub the wound, erase it and the ties it placed on him. He briefly blamed the Air nature and all the nomadic stereotypes, but he hated feeling tied down or owned. Especially now that Andy was actually owned and so was he.
“So, when do I get my insp
iration?”
“It’ll come, kid. You can’t force it or rush it, but it will come. It always does.”
Min wiped his hands on his legs and let out the breath he’d been holding. His innards were shaking. His outtards were hanging on by a thread. He tugged his beanie down and rolled his wheelchair up to the door to lock every single last bolt. And pull the chain across.
This kid glowed. Straight up glowed. Aura blinking like a hyperactive firefly, a little sputtery and frantic, but the glow was strong, and Min was shaking.
He’d gotten out of the soul business for a lot of good reasons and a few selfish ones, but this kid had him going back on a million promises. Guilt would kick his ass later. Eat away at old wounds of lives he’d ruined for greed.
The kind of witches that used souls weren’t the kind of people he’d want to meet in a dark alley. Or a well-lit alley. Or anywhere at all. But this soul was not gonna slip away.
The Sharks wouldn’t mind. Business was business, and Min had always given them plenty of reasons to take his jobs. Earth was a bunch of gangsters pretending to be a government, but the real enforcers were the Sharks. Nasty bunch of whatevers who didn’t mind operating beyond the reach of traditional morals. Vicious and efficient, and the Dragons were the best of the bunch. Or the worst. You know, depending on who you asked.
The Dragon—best of the best, leader of the pack—would probably give him hell for coming back when he said he never would. He would gloat and call Min names, but with the right details, even that could be mitigated. It was only a little hit to his ego. Not a huge problem.
Need and value were subjective, and Min worked in the gray area. But this. Save a life, freedom from slavery. Pretty black and white. And so he was back to souls. Relics weren’t as profitable, but they were a hell of a lot safer.
He rolled back to his office, chewing his bottom lip and trying to think through at least eight different options at once. Who to call first and how much to tell and what research he would have to do and what research he would avoid.
Such a bright glow. Soul shining like a beacon. Min hadn’t seen that in centuries. Not since the failed revolution that had sent him hiding in this tiny town on the outskirts of the Earth’s capital city and stronghold. Hiding under their noses and keeping a finger on the pulse of the whatever.
Licking his wounds and trying to thwart the flaming awful practices that had become so bloody normalized every chance he got. Waiting for another chance to fight back and tip the scales back to balance. It was pitiful. A drop of water on parched ground. Not enough to matter, but it was all he could do.
Or had been. Now this kid. Bright as a star. Thank Terpsichore he’d come to Min’s shop. The threads of Fate were wound around this kid tighter than a . . . tight thing. Min couldn’t think straight. So much at stake.
He’d dropped the hints, laid the path. Now he had to wait for the kid to take it. Inspiration on top of inspiration. It was tricky, but Min had done worse. You didn’t live this long as a muse without learning a few tricks.
Dome
The noise was everywhere, as thick and inescapable as the smoke from so many Volcanics rubbing shoulders in the crowd, their dark skin crackling with energy. People were shouting and laughing above the thumping of the music. Cass hunched his shoulders and moved forward.
“You think the DJ is a Siren?” a scantily clad girl squealed and pushed past. Must be Earth from the way she assumed the rules and lines didn’t apply to her.
It figured that most people here would be Earths. What were the stereotypes? Thick-muscled Rocks, sharply lean Metals, soft and gentle Naturals and Ags. Fires patrolled the edges, badges clearly on display, looking for trouble they could quash. There might be a few Waters around, and some Fae walked through the boisterous crowd. No Airs but himself, though. Typical.
Days had passed since his visit to Min and still not a hint of an idea or inspiration. No clue how he was going to stop this. The machinery of the Earth ran seamlessly, but he had to find a seam. He had to trust the muse that the idea would come.
The chill of oncoming autumn was forgotten in the heat of the Dome. Only the biggest events were held here, and these fights always drew a massive crowd. Glass and metal stretched to the sky, curving around them. For the site of so much violence, it was gilded and polished.
The air inside was humid with the press of bodies. Thousands of people mingling and fighting to be noticed, waiting for the main event.
“Welcome to the Dome,” a snappily dressed Rock was calling, funneling people through the metal detectors. His hands smoothed over his expensive suit, preening as he locked eyes with Cass. Even in his nicest clothes, Cass still stood out in the Capital. “Many domes around, but none like ours. The biggest, the newest, the best. All roads lead to the Dome.”
Cass passed beneath the gaze of two tall Metals, holding his breath as they scanned him with a pair of matching relics. His earrings vibrated. They nodded, and Cass ducked his head and moved on. He pushed through the crowd as casually as he dared. Eyes lingered on him with the usual mixture of lust and disdain.
Inside the Dome, Cass walked through a wall of magic, and the air went stale. His ears plugged up, and his skin felt too tight. Without his magic, he squirmed. It was the price you paid to mingle here. No magic, no weapons. “Equal ground,” they called it, but it was just one more way for the Earth to keep everyone else under their thumbs.
A group of Pyros, flame tattoos crawling up their arms, pushed past him, and he stumbled. He slid on the smooth tile and bumped into a column of carved marble. The outside ring of the room was too lavish, more nightclub than arena.
A young Water watched him from beneath lowered eyelashes but said nothing. Waters weren’t hated quite as much as Airs, but in this room, there was no space for comfort among the despised. Maybe she wasn’t really a Water, just an Earth with unfortunate coloring.
Cass made his way through the mingling crowd. He needed to see the fighting ring, try to spark some ideas.
“Cass, what brings you to this side of the world?” a smooth voice called.
Cass caught sight of Marv sliding through the crowd in an impeccable suit. “I’ve come to see how the other half lives.”
Marv draped a long arm around his shoulders. “After all the times you’ve turned down my invitations? Why now?”
“Leave him alone, darling.” Juji slid up next to Marv. Cass smiled. Dazzling and perfect in a shimmering red dress that let all her hard work be seen, she flexed a little at Cass’s appraisal, muscles tight and defined. “Let’s find a drink.”
Cass let Juji lead him by the hand. “Didn’t expect to see you here. How do you look just as comfortable in this as you do in your workout clothes?”
Juji waved a hand in the air. “You’re so sweet. But they only let me in as a perk and privilege of falling in love with Moneybags here.” She jerked her chin toward Marv.
“Is that what you’re calling him now?” Cass scanned the room, looking for some glimpse of Andy.
“She calls me all kinds of things,” Marv answered. “But my favorites are—”
“No need to share all our secrets,” Juji interrupted. “Anyway, these things are a nightmare. So crowded and uppity.”
Marv rolled his eyes but grinned. He could have just stepped out of a cologne ad. He belonged here. In the Capital, in the Dome, in the middle of everything.
“Dude, if they’re so awful, why are you always wanting me to come?” Cass asked.
“Misery loves company?” Marv teased. “If I have to be here because father dearest wouldn’t have it any other way, then I at least want to spend it with people I can actually respect.”
He pointed up. From the balcony on the second floor, the rich and influential laughed and drank, ignoring the common crowd below.
“Is your father up there?” Cass asked. The Mountain made him nervous. Too many laws he’d written were designed to erase Cass’s existence.
Marv shook his head. “Oh
, no. He has much more important things to be watching. He says these little soirees are too vulgar for him.”
“But not for you?” Cass asked.
“Is there anything more vulgar than me?” Marv laughed.
Cass breathed heavily through his nose. Everything here was vulgar. The celebration was built on the backs of the suffering.
It wasn’t only the fighters whose lives were on the line. All around the room, the Bonded circulated with trays of drinks or food. Their smiles might seem sincere, until the sleek and gruesome collars were visible.
Relics, etched with runes of binding. All the Earth’s slaves wore them. Some glittered like glass, some were smooth and dark, but they all sat tightly against the necks of those who had traded freedom for debt. Or been traded.
“Drink up, my friend,” Juji said, handing Cass a fluted glass and leading him past the ring quickly.
But not quickly enough. The ring in the center of the Dome, cordoned off with velvet ropes to keep the crowd away, was full of shimmering dancers, enticing and arousing the crowd. Bonded, polished, and put on display. They were for sale for an hour or a year, depending on what you could pay.
“Like what you see? Buy a ticket for the private show.” A lean man with a bare chest and a vest pushed a card into Cass’s hands, mouth too close and voice too loud.
Cass’s breath caught in his throat. Airs. Collared. He’d never seen another Air that he wasn’t related to. Laws kept them out on the fringes, and few dared to venture into the Earth’s reach. But of course they were here. No one was safe from the whims of the Earth. Anyone could end up collared for any reason.
They were beautiful. Feathers etched into their skin spun with them as they performed. They were Air but not. What could hold the wind? How could the Earth keep them chained? Cass turned away, swallowing disgust and rage. He couldn’t save them.
Settled at a high table with a view of the room, Cass sipped champagne with his friends. The bubbles bit his tongue.
Freshly Bonded were waiting for the fights. They were mostly teenagers but looked younger from the fear that crowded them all together behind a set of porcelain gates. Cass searched for Andy, a glimpse of dark hair and brown skin. He lifted up on his toes, grateful for his height. But Andy was too short to be seen.