by Lucy Smoke
Out of the corner of my eye, Titus and Holden’s heads snap to the side as they share a glance past me, and a split second later I’m airborne and in Holden’s arms being carried princess style.
A part of me wants to object to the treatment even as my whole body screams out in relief. But, then they break into a sprint and I sag. There’s no way I can keep up with the new speed. As it is, he huffs under my weight, but never breaks his incredible stride.
Sickness rolls within me and I beg my stomach to remain settled. It would be way too embarrassing if I ended up barfing on the guys like a baby.
“This way,” Luca directs the group down a side street that’s almost empty of people save for a beggar in a doorway.
If I thought they were moving quickly in the crowd, I was wrong, so very wrong. The three of them speed down the alley, with Holden taking the rear with me. I look down in wonder to make sure that their feet are, in fact, still touching the ground. We reach the end of the alley and Luca doesn’t pause as he directs Titus to the side of our little pack, leaning into our next turn.
I lean against Holden’s chest. He glances down, his melted brown eyes showing hints of seriousness that I’m not used to coming from him. When he winks at me, though, I feel a little better. If he’s still playful then whatever is happening can’t be too serious.
We come up on a familiar building and Holden sets me down, Luca sweeping the rest of us in through the front doors. It seems almost impossible to have run all the way back to Luca and Booker’s quarters, but we have. No one speaks. Instead, Luca nudges us towards the staircase rather than the elevator and bounds up ahead of us, sprinting through the hall and through his door, with Holden, Titus, and I following behind.
Booker paces back and forth between the snow-white couches of the greenhouse living room. Luca pulls up just as we get through the doorway and within a blink of an eye, he’s a dog again, trotting up to Booker’s side. Booker jerks when Luca’s furry shoulder makes contact with the back of his knee, but I watch as the tension in his shoulders relax marginally and he reaches down to pat Luca’s head.
“Thank you for getting here so quickly,” he says. I look around for Coen, but I don’t see him.
“What’s this about?” Titus demands. “We were supposed to meet back at the University platform.”
“Should we pack?” Holden asks. Titus and I jerk our gazes to him. He remains focused on Booker. I forget that they’ve known each other much longer than it seems.
“Coen is taking care of supplies,” Booker replies wearily, his hand still stroking along Luca’s head. That explains why Coen isn’t here, but not why Booker is so on edge. His hair is mussed, cheeks pale, eyes wild until he finally sinks into one of the couches and Luca lays his head on his master’s lap. I can’t wait any longer.
“What’s going on, Booker?” His gaze turns to me as he drags his free hand through his hair, grabs a chunk of the strands, and holds it.
“Matric knows about you.”
“What?!” Titus yells. I feel like I’ve been punched into the chest and the cavity left from the wound has turned into a black hole. “How?” Booker sighs, releasing his hair. He rubs the side of his tired face before answering.
“Did you really think that no one would notice your absence?” Booker snaps at Titus and even as Titus bristles, Holden steps forward and grips his arm.
“What exactly does the King know?”
“They don’t know who the daimon is, thank the Gods,” he admits, “but, the King did receive a report about four refugees that soldiers witnessed fleeing the city. He expects you to attempt to flee this side of the continent entirely and as such, he has dispatched soldiers to every coastal city in the area.”
“That means he’s coming here,” I deadpan. Not even a week in the new city and we’re already going on the run again. I look around at the guys and I picture King Matric, the tall, obese figure of nobility bringing his wrath down upon them because of me.
“You’re sure he doesn’t suspect it’s one of them?” I ask, gesturing to the guys. “Or Coen?” I try to keep my voice even, but the mere idea of them taking the fall for me turns my stomach.
Booker sighs. “He doesn’t even know the names of the refugees yet, but it won’t take long for him to figure it out.”
He’s right, the odds are that the King will know before the end of the week. All he needs to do is send his soldiers out to take a census, and everyone missing from last year’s count will be sought out.
“How do you know all this?” Titus demands.
“He has friends,” Holden says, releasing his arm.
“What kind of friends would—?”
“We have to get out of the city,” Holden cuts him off, moving closer to me. His nearness and the strength in his tone relaxes me. We do need to get out of the city and even though I’m a terrible friend for wanting them with me, in the line of fire, I don’t know that I can leave them behind.
The front door opens. Coen, weighed down with supply packs, stomps into the room. His eyes light on me and I feel a rush of relief. I knew Booker wouldn’t lie about Coen, but seeing him here, safe and whole, gives me a greater reassurance.
“Did anyone recognize you?” Booker asks. Coen shakes his head, setting his load down between the couches. He approaches me, dragging me into a fierce bear hug. My stomach rolls again, hurting like it had when Holden was carrying m. I slowly bring my hands up to hug him back without upsetting my insides even more. My mouth dries up as the pain inches outward. If I’m getting sick, I know I need to push forward. There’s no time to deal with it.
“Did you find out what was wrong with your spirit guide?” he asks.
I nod. “He’s bound in some way. Madam Armaita said that he must have done something… broken a law or something else in order for it to have happened. It’s what’s keeping him from talking to me.” When he releases me, one of my hands finds my stomach and I hold it there as though that will calm the acidic riot inside. My temples start to pound.
“Does she have any idea how to unbind him? Will that help you?” I shake my head.
“I don’t know if it will help.” My stomach clenches as the dull throbbing in my head grows more prominent. The saliva in my mouth evaporates which is an odd sensation with the nausea bubbling in my stomach. “But, she said to try looking for more information in the Pharoah’s Library.”
“Where’s that at?” Gray eyes blur and I blink to rid myself of the sudden visual impudence.
“It’s located in Cephei, the City of the Phoenix,” Booker says. I open my mouth to agree, but instead my lips freeze halfway parted as a fresh wave of pain drives through my core. Coen looks at me strangely, his arms reaching for me even as my knees buckle.
“Nerys?!” The volume in my ears has been turned down so even though I know he’s yelling, it sounds far away. Coen’s head flips to the others. “What’s wrong with her?”
Obidian’s voice is weak, tired. Death coming. Bindings... I can’t... must protect... I try to push strength into him, but he simply soaks it in without the energy doing what it should. From my place down in the well of my subconscious I hear an animalistic howl so painful, it shakes my bones.
⚜⚜⚜
Fainting sucks. A. Lot. If I ever have the choice between fainting or diving into a vat of bison crap, I’d... probably still choose fainting. Still, though, it isn’t fun.
“Her pulse is up,” someone says. Two fingers press down over my left wrist, holding firmly.
I lick my dry, cracked lips before opening my eyes and Booker looks down at me and smiles. No, that’s not right. I haven’t seen Booker smile much since I met him, would he smile now? It seems so odd to think that I just met these boys, all aside from Coen, just a few days ago. Without thinking, it feels normal to act familiar with them and I don’t even realize just how fresh our relationship is until something comes along and reminds me, like trying to figure out why I know it’s Luca smiling down at me and not Boo
ker.
“She’s awake,” he says to someone I can’t see. I stare up, unable to look away from those mesmerizing green eyes of his.
“Let me see.” Holden’s face appears over me, his dark curls falling over his temples. He frowns down at me, eyes examining my face. He turns away.
“Is she okay?” My head throbs. Luca’s smile falters.
“She will be,” he assures us.
I groan, reaching for Holden and Luca’s arms. “Help me up,” I say. Both treat me gently, with hands against my back as I slowly sit up.
The room is dark and night has obviously fallen, which isn’t a total shocker since it had been sunset when we got back to the dorm. I’m unaware of how much time has passed, but as I look around, I note that no one else is nearby.
As if sensing my confusion, Luca sidles behind me and leans forward until I’m resting against his chest before he speaks. “Booker and Coen are getting us transport out of town,” he says. “Titus is keeping watch on the street.”
As Holden moves to stand back against the wall, watching us both with concern, my mind races.
“What are our options?” I demand. Luca’s green eyes burn as he watches me.
“The city itself isn’t under King Matric’s rule, it’s a republic. However, the council does rely heavily on other cities like Matric’s not only for trade but for its own operation. Many of the council members are elected officials with a cushy life. They don’t want that life disrupted. Matric will likely keep his search on the quiet side for now. If he can get you before you leave the city, the council has no problem looking the other way.”
We’ll have to talk about how messed up and corrupt Ragnarok’s council is at a later date. “He doesn’t know it’s me specifically, right?” Luca shakes his head. “Then how would he know if he’s got the daimon or not?”
Holden grins from his place against the wall. “You’ve got a devious mind, princess.” He nods to Luca. “I’ll give Booker some ideas.” Then Holden is gone, disappearing down the hall and I’m left alone with a tired, blinking Luca.
“What is he giving Booker ideas for?” Luca asks.
“Booker is a druid, right?” I begin. “And King Matric is looking for a group of people from his kingdom. Eventually he’ll have our names and therefore his men should be looking for some our faces, but he likely doesn’t know all of us—especially not Booker or Luca—just yet, right? But his city isn’t all that small, so if they spot us, they’ll know immediately who the refugees are. If Booker can cast a spell to make other people who are leaving the city look like us, it might throw them off.”
“What if these people are killed?” Luca asks with a frown. I mirror his expression, worried for the unknown strangers.
“Then we don’t have to mask them, just ourselves.”
“He might not be able to do all of our faces,” Luca says.
“Then he’ll do whoever he can,” I say. “Even masking one of us is an advantage. He can at least try, right?” Maybe I’m overestimating Booker’s abilities, I’ve never met a druid, only heard tales. I anxiously wait for Luca’s reply and I’m filled with relief when Luca nods slowly, his face soft in consideration as he takes in my plan.
“All we need to do is mask our identities. He might not have to do Titus,” I say, my excitement gaining ground. “He didn’t seem to think anyone would turn him in or recognize him. I didn’t recognize him from the city and I wouldn’t have known he lived there if I hadn’t witnessed him escape with us. The same can be said for Holden, but I don’t want to press our luck.”
“Nerys.”
“With you and Booker and Titus sneaking us out, they won’t know to look for your faces and ours will be hidden in plain sight. Ragnarok is a coastal city, it’s big. You said Matric is trying to be quiet about this, he’s probably not going to have his entire army out searching for us, which is what he’ll need for a city this big. Maybe Booker can even set ours and other people’s masks to go off repeatedly–”
“Nerys, masking spells don’t work that way,” he interrupts me. “They are a little more difficult to prepare for and the magic won’t last but for a few hours.”
“It has to work,” I say desperately. “What else can we do?”
Luca touches my cheek. “It’s a good idea, little daimon. Booker will be able to come up with something. I’m sure even Madam Armaita would be willing to help. Don’t worry, we won’t let anyone get hurt, most especially you.” I let him trace my cheek until his fingers reach my lips. Then I pull away and look at the wall, plans running through my mind.
“How long do you think Holden and the others will be?” I want them back now. Not seeing them surrounding me makes my heart pound in fear and my chest ache. What if they get captured? What if they get hurt? What if they’re killed? The last question that stumbles through my mind sends bile churning in the pit of my stomach.
“They’ll be back soon,” he says before easing me back down onto the pallet on they have made for me on the ground. “Maybe you should rest some more, you almost hit your head when you passed out. Headaches?”
I nod silently. Another one is back with a fierce vengeance and it’s a dull, but growing throb in my temples again. Luca lays down at my side and I turn facing away from him. He cuddles up to my back, his warmth spreading over me and I sigh in relief. I hadn’t realized how cold I was until I press up against the bonfire of his skin.
Luca’s breath puffs over my hair and the warmth is like another lick of heat right against the side of my face and neck. I hardly notice it enough to feel uncomfortable—why would I be uncomfortable with Luca? My thoughts bounce around the inside of my skull, dizzy in their switches. He’s my friend. That’s what makes it easy to clutch his arm to my chest to keep him here as my fears become images in my head and I think of all of the horrible things that could be happening to the rest of them. Titus is outside, yes, but that doesn’t make him safe. Right now, none of us are safe.
A while later the door creaks open and my headache is forgotten as the rest of the guys return and we’re all thrown together once more into an escape plan. This time there should be no surprise additions. It’s just us and we’re all in on the plan.
Titus and Coen confirm that there are several soldiers spread throughout the city, not aware of our presence yet, but looking. Booker agrees that masking spells would be a welcome diversion and safety precaution. He briefs us on the spell as he prepares.
“I only have the supplies here for a small amount.” Booker stands over the stove of his kitchen, pouring various contents together, strange powders and colored liquids as I pack. I slip my vial of dragon’s blood into a pocket on the side of my bag. “It’s stretched thin already which will lessen the time it lasts but, even so, I only have enough for two, maybe three. Not all four.”
I sigh. It’s as Luca suggested. “Give it to the others,” I say. “I’ll be fine.”
Five angry sets of male eyes glare at me. Hell, even Luca and Holden look upset. “Titus,” Booker says. “You gonna be cool without it?”
He nods his head once, still glaring at me. “I said I’d be fine,” I argue. Luca and Holden shake their heads as Booker looks away and Titus and Coen continue to glare at me. “What?!” I snap. “Fine. You take it. It doesn’t matter.”
“Coen, did you do what I asked?” Booker turns the stove off and brings the boiling pot into the living room where we’ve all gathered.
Coen nods. “I rented the room without much problem, under an alias of course.”
“Room?” I start as Booker hands me a cup full of steaming liquid. “What room?”
“Drink it.” He urges it to my lips. I take a sip and it smells like burned sugar but tastes like melted wax. I cough, but he continues to hold it to my face as I reflexively swallow.
“Wait,” I manage to choke out. “We’re not leaving yet.” It’s too late, though, the cup is empty.
“This potion will jump start the spell when I cast it tomorrow. It
won’t leave your system for a little over a day. But it needs time to acclimate to your body,” Booker explains before gesturing to Coen and Holden to take their cups.
“Okay,” I say. “Now, what about the rooms?”
“We’re not spending the night here. We’re going to the southern streets where we’ll stay in a rented room that I had Coen book for us. From there, we’ll split up on the morrow and reconvene outside of Ragnarok.” I blink at him in amazement.
“You think of everything, don’t you?”
He smirks. “I do try.”
⚜⚜⚜
When the rest of the guys return, we set out for the rented room. Even though my muscles still ache with every movement, I don’t complain when Booker tells me we’ll be walking. I might grumble and die on the inside a bit, but I don’t complain. The further south we get in the city, the more decrepit the buildings become until there are no remnants of what they once were.
When we hit a street that is a block of dirty gray shacks all attached to one another with broken doors and sheets hanging over windows as we pass by, we’ve made it to our destination. Our room is at the very end of the street and it seems to be the most well-kept. There is an actual window, though the crack splitting the seam on the right side threatens its stability. The door has a measly turn lock that Booker flips back and forth as we all pile into the twelve by twelve space.
“What a shithole,” Coen comments. I flash him a look and he shrugs. “What? It is. Even my shack was better than this.”
“No one will be expecting you to be hiding in a shack with extra companions,” Booker says easily, closing the door and flipping the lock up.
“That’s not going to hold anyone off,” Coen says, gesturing to the gap between the frame and floor. “I could kick it and it would run screaming in the other direction.”