by K W Quinn
Amel shook his head, and Charly’s laugh was immediate and squeaky like bad windshield wipers.
“That’s what matters most, though,” Charly huffed.
“Need serious help, though, Min,” Amel said, walking uninvited through the counter to the back room.
“Yeah, sure. Go ahead. Make yourselves at home. You know the way.”
“Of course we do. We’ve Spelled every inch of this place. Some of it twice,” Charly said, brushing past with an affectionate pat on Min’s shoulder.
Min grunted and rolled himself behind them. “You’re good at what you do, and everybody knows it. So, why are you here? I didn’t call.”
“We suspect that you set something in motion,” Charly said and pulled up a chair to the table.
Min grinned slyly. “So, he found you? Heh, good. I wasn’t sure that kid was paying enough attention to catch my hint.”
“Of course he found us. We pretty much wired Andy to find us when he was in danger.”
“Who? You mean the one the kid was trying to rescue? How do you—”
“You tried to send Cass to us?” Amel cut in.
“Yeah. To give him enough protection to make it until the Dragon—”
“You sent a Dragon after Cass?” Charly growled. “Minos, by the stars, if one hair on his head is harmed, I’m going to—”
“Calm down, both of you. And stop interrupting. Let’s start from the beginning, have some tea, and act like civilized people. We’ve known each other long enough to offer that courtesy.”
Min poured tea while Amel seethed and Charly pouted.
“Now,” Min started, “tell me what exactly you need, and I’ll tell you what I can do and for how much.”
“But Andy—” Charly protested.
“How was I supposed to know that the kid was saving your kid? You’ve never said spit about him other than that he lived here. Some Air wandered in asking for favors, and I gave him what he needed. End of story. If you didn’t know that I was involved, why are you here? What do you need?”
“Min, do you have any idea the kind of danger you put him in? And Cass is—”
Amel put a hand on Charly’s arm. “No, Charly, he’s right. The need first,” he said. Min grinned. Amel was the practical sort. So refreshing in a witch.
Charly sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Fine. We’re here because we need to know how to unlock a Mistwalker’s potential. Specifically, one who sold his soul. Is having a contract on his soul keeping him from being able to be . . . why are you smiling like that?”
Min grinned. The music soared triumphantly in his head. “So. A Mistwalker, huh?”
“I really don’t like it when you grin like that, Min. I can feel the headache it’s going to give me. It’s not good when you get excited about things,” Charly complained.
“You don’t remember the revolution, but I do. Trust me, you’d smile too.” Min sipped his tea slowly. “Now tell me what you can about our future savior.”
“What’s it going to cost?” Amel asked.
“Witch, if this is the break we’ve been waiting for, I’ll give you this one on the house.”
Charly and Amel stared at each other for a long moment, probably communicating in some witchy telepathic way, but Min could wait.
They finally turned to face him with matching frowns and crossed arms.
“Glad you’re already sitting down,” Amel said.
“A second-generation Mistwalker, untapped and on the run, turned up at your door with Nadezda?” Min asked, smiling into his teacup.
“Should have smelled you on this deal a mile away,” Amel said, shaking his head, red curls bouncing.
“I’m astonished I didn’t put the pieces together, but I was sure you’d given up the soul business.” Charly poked a crooked finger at Min. “And Cass? Why wouldn’t he say he’d seen a muse? I thought he’d gotten mixed up with a lich or something equally unsavory. I’ll admit I was too worried about that flaming collar to ask many questions.”
“Right. It was all ‘save Andy, protect us from the Dragon,’ and everything else was secondary,” Amel agreed.
“Well, inspiration never tells the whole story. Not even to me,” Min said with a shrug. “I saw the soul shining like a lamp and knew he was important. You should have seen his glow. Made my skin itch looking at him. Fate is all over that kid.” Min shook his head.
“So, now what? Minos, this is more important than anything. He could blow everything wide open, but we can’t get him to engage. We can’t unlock his potential if he won’t admit he has it. How do we motivate him?” Charly pleaded.
Min swirled the tea in his cup. “The threads of this are shaking all over. The underground resistance is twitchy and doesn’t know why. Everyone can feel the pressure building.” He took a sip and set the mug down. He wouldn’t let his hands shake. He’d been through tough times before, and he would get through this.
“So, you still keep in touch with your network of spies?” Charly asked.
“Information is still the best and most lucrative thing I offer.”
“Relics and inspiration don’t pay the bills?” Amel cut in.
“Not in these times. With the Earth pushing everyone who doesn’t put up and shut up into Bonding or exile, there’s not as much business.” Min rubbed his thumb along the hot ceramic of his mug, refusing to give in to the sentimental pull of memory.
“Times are lean,” Amel agreed.
“And so am I,” Min quipped. “Not starving, of course. I’m too old for that, but it’s not easy. Then this kid. I’d be surprised Nadezda found him, but she’s like a magnet for runaways.”
“She has quite the collection,” Charly said.
“She’s been all over, spreading the rumblings of revolution and inspiring the masses. Should have been a muse,” Min said with a grin. Dez was a piece of the puzzle he hadn’t been expecting, but she was a surprise he didn’t mind at all.
“You’re grinning again,” Charly said, interrupting his thoughts.
“Yeah. Well, a storm is coming, and the kid is at the center of it. He’s gonna unleash it, but it takes surrender. A big sacrifice.”
“Don’t be cryptic. No time for that,” Amel grumbled.
“I’m getting there. Don’t interrupt. So, the Dragon is a part of this too.”
“You monster,” Charly muttered. “Sending a Dragon? Worst kind of amoral, greed-driven, violence-loving—”
“Calm down. I wasn’t gonna let this soul go to waste. And you haven’t worked with the Dragons in a long time. I have.”
“That’s not a calming thought, Min.” Charly glared over his tea.
“I didn’t expect Tarone to send a fresh Dragon, but it’s better this way. I had no idea how I was gonna convince Tarone or a senior Dragon to bring me the whole body instead of a jar with the soul. But this Dragon is young but capable, desperate to make an impression. This Dragon has resonance and a strong one too.” Min let the words ring. Dramatic effect, but the moment called for it.
“Are you trying to tell me that our Mistwalker has a Dragon for a soulmate?” Charly squeaked.
Min nodded and crossed his arms. “I told you Fate was pulling some crazy strings on this one.”
“The key to our entire hope of revolution is soul-bound to a mercenary assassin?”
“Not bound yet,” Min clarified.
“Get to the sacrifice, Min,” Amel said sharply.
“Well, if you want the full power of his potential, he has to give up his soul. That part is nonnegotiable.”
“What do you mean, nonnegotiable? Everything is negotiable. It is literally what you do!” Charly shouted.
“Relax. I’m not gonna collect his soul.”
“No, you sent a mercenary to do it for you, you coward.”
“One, I’m not as cowardly as you think, and two, no one is going to take it, all right? He’s going to give it up. Surrender. To the cause. Or the Dragon. I’m not exactly sure, but he’ll do it. And
then? Hold on to your brooms, witches. The storm will be unleashed.”
“Surrender how?” Amel cut in.
Min shifted in his wheelchair. “I’m not sure, actually. I haven’t seen a situation like this before. The old Mistwalkers had some sort of ceremony, right? A coming-of-age thing?” Min thrust his chin at Amel, who nodded quickly. “Yeah, so, there’s that. But the details of it are lost to the ages.”
“To the genocide of the Conglomerate, you mean,” Charly spat.
“Yep. That. But the inspiration is there. It’s in his blood, just like the talent, and when the time is right? He’ll know what to do. Inspiration always pulls us through,” Min said, crossing his arms. That sounded impressive. He almost sounded like he knew what he was talking about.
“When the time is right? Hades and Hel, Min, how long do we have to wait? A slow siege type of rebellion is already going to test the patience of everyone involved. If we have to wait for some mysterious time for some mysterious thing to happen, we’ll lose all the support we’ve gathered.” Charly threw up his hands. Min tried to keep his eyes from rolling out of his head at the dramatics, but there was truth to the question.
“Where’s the Dragon now?” Amel asked.
“On the trail, following the soulprint, doing Dragon stuff. I don’t know the details. You know I never ask.”
“Still squeamish after all these years?” Charly asked with one perfect eyebrow raised. Min thought briefly about punching him right in his perfect face.
“Look, I’m not proud of the things I’ve done, but it’s all worked to put me right here, right now. So I’m not gonna regret it. I’ll make the ends justify the means somehow.”
“We Spell-wrapped the boys every way we could. Of course, they had most of the artifacts stolen from them on the first day, but maybe the Dragon will chase those instead?” Charly asked.
Min shrugged, shaking an errant curl out of his face. “It’s possible but not likely. With the resonance, she’s likely to stick pretty close to the real trail. I’m a little surprised she hasn’t found him by now.”
“She?” Charly asked, leaning much too far forward in his chair.
“A young, female Dragon,” Amel said slowly, staring at Charly. They looked at each other and had another conversation with their eyeballs. Min tugged his beanie back into place and waited for them to return to the real world.
“No. No way,” Charly sputtered. “There hasn’t been a dragonkin Dragon in—”
“Generations upon generations. Yeah, that’s what I said,” Min finished. “Or what she said when I asked the same question. So, you’ve met her?”
“I’m going to skin her alive, the lying, little—” Charly began but stopped when Amel rested a large hand on the back of his chair.
“Can’t. Cass needs her, remember?”
“Well, I’m not leaving her with him a minute longer. Let’s go,” Charly said, striding toward the door.
“It’s after midnight,” Min interrupted. “He’s been safe this far. Don’t drive angry, Charly. Have another cup of tea.”
Amel lifted his freckled face and nodded at Charly. Min was glad someone was on his side at the moment.
Charly scowled but returned to the table. “I’ll stay the night, but you’d best pour me something much stronger than tea, Minos.”
Fever
“We’ll be back in a few hours. I know a great place nearby to make quick tips,” Dez said, throwing a duffel bag over her shoulder.
“I should go with you. I could breathe fire. It’s a bigger draw,” Reyah objected. She wasn’t a nurse. She wasn’t a babysitter. She wasn’t equipped to deal with this.
“You’re not wrong, but Andy and I have practiced more. I don’t think you’re quite ready, love.”
“I want to stay with Cass,” Andy protested.
“See? He wants to stay. I want to go,” Reyah said.
“And I’m in charge,” Dez said, silencing them. They both crossed their arms and sighed, then looked at each other and smirked. “Sunset isn’t far off. We need to get moving if we want to make enough to pay for a doctor. We’ve tapped you dry, love, and it’s still not enough. We can’t wait for the witches. He’s getting worse fast.”
“Fine,” Reyah said. “Hand me the keys.”
She wished she’d brought more money with her. She never expected to be on the job this long without being able to replenish. Now she was stuck in Witch Central with no access to her funds and a sick target.
Andy plopped the van keys into her hand. “Take good care of him,” he warned.
“Ice for his head and feet. Keep the fever down. Try and get some water into him too. I’ll keep calling the witches, but until then, you’re our best hope,” Dez added. Reyah nodded and watched them drive off.
She should have been elated. This was the kind of opportunity she’d been waiting for. No witnesses, no fuss, no fighting. She could just take the soul and go. But Min wanted a shiny soul in perfect condition. Cass didn’t fit the bill when he was so weak with fever that he couldn’t lift his head.
Reyah climbed back in the van and sat sideways in the passenger seat to watch him sleep. He glowed fitfully, the light of his soul pale and thin. A regular fever shouldn’t have had a soul-level effect, but whatever was happening seemed pretty irregular.
It had come on so suddenly. Andy was in a panic. After dinner, Cass had gone to bed early, choosing to sleep in the van one more night and giving Andy the room in the house. In the morning, Andy couldn’t get him to stay awake or move into the house. Without the witches, they’d nursed him as best they could. Andy blamed the cold seawater for causing the fever, shakes, and weakness that the target had developed.
It seemed logical except for the fading glow, which Reyah couldn’t explain to them without exposing herself. While it was true that some gifted people could read auras and souls without the aid of a contract, that gift was rarer than being dragonkin.
Andy wanted to take Cass to a doctor. Dez agreed to go in the morning, but first, they needed money. And someone willing to work off the record, off the grid, and never tell a single living soul. Reyah wasn’t surprised Dez was confident she could find someone like that.
What they needed were the witches. Some secret tea. Herbs. Weird chanting and crystals would fix this. But they were out on some mysterious errand that Andy couldn’t explain because he didn’t understand.
The target thrashed in his sleep, moaning and pulling at the covers. He flopped sideways, lying in a tangled mess of sheets in the middle of the space they had converted to a bed. Reyah didn’t blush at the amount of bare skin that was uncovered. This was just a job. A target. Who had a belly button.
And he was sick. He had no business being so pretty when he was skin. Sick, she corrected herself. When he was sick. He was sick and vulnerable. And pretty. All lean and soft and golden-brown.
Reyah moved out of her seat to cover him up. She squinted as his dreams got louder. They were bad tonight. Harsh dreams, disjointed and anxious. Getting closer to the target only made it worse, but she’d rather face the screaming in her head than have to stare at his perfect belly.
She pulled the sheet up and made soft shushing noises, trying to soothe him as best she could. She kept her knees tucked up and out of the way, resting her back against the side of the van. She could keep an eye on him from here.
“Why couldn’t you have slept in the house? What’s so great about this smelly old van?” Reyah grumbled.
He wouldn’t answer. She wasn’t sure he could hear her.
His hair was damp with sweat and clung to his forehead. She brushed it back gently. The screaming got quieter. She sighed and pulled her hand away, grateful the worst seemed to be over, but as soon as she withdrew, the screaming came back just as loud as before. Maybe louder. A few more experimental touches confirmed that, for some reason, his dreams were quieter when she was touching him. Still violent and ugly, but quieter.
She rolled her eyes and told hersel
f this was another part of the job. Just like following him around and playing silly games. Just like laughing and sharing food. She scooted a little closer so she could reach him without straining. It was just her job. Caring for the soul. Getting it into good shape for retrieval. Nothing more.
It wasn’t because it made her happy to see him at peace. It was easier not to have his nightmares in her brain. It wasn’t that she felt pleased with being able to use her hands to calm his feverish skin. Just part of the job.
She stroked his forehead gently, smoothing his hair. It felt good to touch him skin-to-skin. It reminded her of the rush of emotions from the soulprint, but it was softened and manageable. Her heart raced a little, and she tried to control her breathing. She watched his long eyelashes flutter against his cheeks. From this close, she could see the beginnings of faint stubble along his chin.
Soft, golden, and kind. She’d never met anyone quite like him. Somehow innocent and mischievous. He made her smile. It was a problem. She was going to take his soul, and he would never smile again.
The knowledge filled her stomach with ice. But that was the job. It was usually so satisfying to complete a contract. Deliver a little justice, bring order to the world. Her jobs had made sense before this. Thieves, murderers, violent and lawless people. Those were jobs she could do.
This job was not so clear. Not just a healthy soul. A good soul. And here she was interacting with people who were shaking her faith in the institution she’d grown up in. She did good work, necessary work, but Dez’s stories and the way people treated Cass confirmed her suspicions that the Earth was as corrupt and violent as the people she’d been hunting.
Flaming Min and his bloody contract. He was ruining everything. This job would ruin everything. The budding revolution. The dance show. Reyah’s heart.
The target rolled over, clutching at her legs. He struggled to find a comfortable position. She scooted down a bit and stretched out her legs. He snuggled up, pulling himself to rest his head in her lap. It was easier to keep her hand on his head like this. To monitor his fever. And keep the nightmares quiet. Or quieter.