We walked a short distance down the corridor and stopped outside a closed door. It was one I’d never been through before, though that wasn’t saying much—it’d take years to investigate every room in the massive palace. She reached under the high collar of her dress and tugged out a silver chain with a key dangling on the end. Ah, Atlanteans and their love of keys. Leaning down, she slotted it into the lock and turned it. A faint thrum buzzed across the doorway, and I noticed a slight sheen that suggested a magical barrier disappearing rapidly.
Not your typical key, then? Once the barrier had vanished, Kaya ushered me into the room beyond. Inside, my jaw hit the deck. It looked like the sort of library that Belle and her anthropomorphic pals would have gone mad for. Bookshelves lined every wall, with sliding ladders connected to runners between them, so a person could reach the book they wanted even if it was all the way at the top. The walls were crazy high, with books filling every inch. Not the kind of library you’d want to enter if you had vertigo.
I noticed boxes of scrolls tucked into some of the recesses: an homage to the ancient method of scribbling stuff down. A square arrangement of glass cases stood in the center of the room, with a desk in the very middle, accessible through a narrow gap. Artifacts of all kinds—from glinting weaponry and crumbling papyrus to shining jewelry and even what looked like the skeleton of a tiny mermaid—were proudly displayed. It wasn’t what I’d have wanted to look at while I worked, but whatever stirred a person’s coffee, I supposed.
“What is this place?” I stared in wonder at the statue by the window, which was silhouetted by the sunshine glancing in behind it. By now, I was pretty familiar with the fishtail and wings of Ganymede—Atlantis’s founder. Kaya had obviously commissioned a life-sized statue to add to the eclectic mix of bits and bobs that she had here.
“It is one of my private study chambers,” she replied proudly.
“One of them? How many do you have?”
She chuckled. “I have each one crafted specifically for different needs. This is my personal library, where I keep the books and scrolls that are most important to Atlantis. That is why only I am in possession of a key.”
“Ovid didn’t have one?” I wondered aloud.
She visibly flinched, and I instantly regretted it. She answered after a pause. “He did, but his key will leave Atlantis with his body, leaving me as the sole possessor of an entry into this room. Until I decide to craft another, that is. At present, I believe my father’s key is in Apollo’s custody. He will hold on to it until the funeral.”
“Sorry. Me and my big mouth.” I cast my gaze down at my shuffling feet.
“It is quite all right. I cannot avoid the stark truth that he is gone, so why should you feel as though you cannot mention it? In a way, it is beneficial, for you can condition me not to react whenever it is discussed. And you will not view me as weak for reacting with emotion, as others might.” She strode toward the central desk and beckoned me to follow. A scroll was already laid out on the table, but I couldn’t read the language.
A thought came to me. “Do you think the Librarian would have access to this kind of information?” I waved a hand around the room.
Kaya blinked in surprise. “The librarian? You mean, of the royal collection?”
“No, Librarian with a capital ‘L,’” I clarified. “They’re a bit of a legend on the surface; a powerful Clairvoyant and vessel of all Chaos knowledge. It’s kind of like an inheritance—so, there’s only one at any time, and when the current one dies, all the information gets transferred into someone else’s head. Although, I think it’s a random selection, who gets picked next.” For some reason, my rambling tongue refused to name Melody.
Kaya paused for a moment. “Now that you mention it, I have heard of such an entity. However, none of our Atlantean knowledge would be available to them. When Ganymede founded our great nation, she severed it from all the Chaos ties of the surface world, for the sake of self-preservation. Our magic evolved secretly and separately. We were in hiding from those who would have killed us for our heritage, so we could not take the risk of having anyone learn of us or use our power against us.”
“Right, that sounds like a pretty firm no.” A vague thought reminded me that Melody couldn’t access anything Atlantean, precisely for the reasons Kaya had just given.
But why would that matter? The confusion was seeping back in. It didn’t serve Atlantis or the crown for Melody to know all their secrets. In fact, that would’ve been a really bad idea, considering her attitude toward my marriage. So why the hell had I even asked?
“Here. Come closer, my love.” Kaya’s voice lulled me back out of any potential fog. And that phrase made my stomach feel warm and squishy: My love. See, it was real. My tummy didn’t squish for just anyone.
Take that, Erebus! Smiling smugly, I drew closer, peering over Kaya’s shoulder at the scroll on the desk. It proved even more baffling close up. The text wasn’t remotely Romanized. Weird squiggles and shapes were drawn onto the thick paper, in swirls and slashes and dots that didn’t seem to follow any pattern at all. And the color choice was… interesting: a rusty brown shade of crumbly old ink.
“What is it?” I couldn’t even pretend I knew.
She smiled so wide that it challenged the sun’s brightness. “This is the Sanguine spell that is required to raise Atlantis to the surface.”
“Why’s it brown? Didn’t they have ink when they wrote this?” I eyed the Ganymede statue anxiously. Her impassive marble gaze freaked me out a bit, like she was staring straight at me.
“They did, but it is not written in ink,” Kaya explained. “It is written in blood.”
“Her blood?” I felt a little queasy. Katherine had always kept the blood spells away from my curious eyes during my cult time.
She reached up and cupped my cheek gently. “No, this is written in the blood of a Portal Opener. You needed a portal to reach our world, and the same was required during Atlantis’s inception, to ensure complete severance. A spell of that magnitude requires a blood sacrifice.”
Yep, bile was threatening to lurch up my throat. Even Kaya’s sweet touch couldn’t mute that horror. “She… killed someone?”
“Of course not!” Kaya removed her hand sharply, her eyes admonishing. I’d clearly stuffed my foot in my mouth again. “She was no monster, Finch. She simply drew the required amount of blood and used it to write a series of spells. She did the same for the spell that granted us our extended lives, though that was written with the blood of a Necromancer.”
I frowned. “Sorry, I guess I’m used to people killing when they want something. Doing something like that without murdering folks is a new concept for me.”
Her expression softened. “I forgot that you had to endure your mother’s evil.”
I wish I could forget that part…
“Is this the submersion spell, then?”
She nodded. “It is, and this is its counterpart, its opposite.” She moved aside the first scroll to reveal another beneath, written in the same unnerving rusty shade. “This is the spell I will use to raise us, where she submerged us.”
“Wait, so she knew you might want to return to the surface one day?” I eyed the second scroll, which also made zero sense to me.
She brushed her fingertips across the ancient paper. “According to the foreword, Ganymede foresaw the possibility that we might have cause to emerge, one day. That is why she created a second part that would reverse what she had done. She was a wondrous woman, and she certainly did not make any oversights. All those years ago, she desired to give us a choice, should a time come when we needed one, rather than force us to drown with her legacy. That is the sort of queen I endeavor to be.”
Kaya’s voice was wistful, but I shuddered as she touched the ink. “Who does this blood belong to?” I asked.
“This is Ganymede’s own blood. The blood of an Angelis. The rarest of all abilities, which has not been seen since her demise and likely will never be seen
again.” She sighed, having a fangirl moment. Her enthusiasm was intoxicating, even if the blood thing made me feel a bit sick. “However, this spell requires a different sort of sacrifice.”
“You mean the blood of every Atlantean?” I nodded like I understood.
She tilted her head. “Yes and no. The blood is necessary for the spell to work, as part of the choice element that Ganymede integrated into her work, but not in the way you might suppose.”
I stared at her hopelessly. “You’re going to have to make it simple for me, Kaya.” Even Einstein would’ve had trouble keeping up.
She chuckled. “The blood is required because life powers the spell, unraveling the intricate magic that forged our world. An enormous amount of life is necessary. When the spell is actioned, our people will have to give up their five-hundred-year lives, and those extra years will transform into the necessary fuel to raise our city.”
I stumbled back, almost crashing into one of the glass cases. “You’re going to kill everyone? You know I’m here to support everything you do, but I can’t support that!”
She rolled her eyes. “You will give me a complex if you continue to insinuate that we Atlanteans are power-hungry murderers.” I swallowed nervously as she went on, turning her eyes back to the scroll. “No one is going to die. The spell will grant our people ordinary, surface-length lives instead of the centuries we have grown accustomed to. It will remove the gift that Ganymede gave us and use that energy to raise us upward. As you might imagine, there is a gargantuan expenditure in such a task, not only in the raising but in the geographical changes it will cause.”
“Ah…” It didn’t take a genius to realize that probably wouldn’t go down too well.
She narrowed her eyes at me. “What are you insinuating?”
“Nothing. It’s just a fairly huge ask, when people are so used to living for ages. They might choose to bury their heads in the sand and take whatever comes, instead of giving up their long lives.” I had to be honest.
She braced her hands against the table. Evidently, I was going to keep saying the wrong thing. “They will be free on the surface, within the protection of our queendom, and they will be an integral part of creating a new world order, wherein magicals no longer live secretly. Besides, it is our only option, and I am certain they would rather have shortened lives than no lives at all.” She shot me a warning look. “And no, I am not talking about killing them if they refuse. I am referring to the fact that we will all drown if we remain here. This is our sole path to survival.”
“You make a compelling case, my love, but who’s doing the collecting? Maybe if the people heard from you directly, they’d be more willing to agree.” I tiptoed on eggshells, not wanting to piss her off again.
“Apollo and Thebian are handling the collection, and they have been given a script repeating precisely what I have just said to you.” She straightened and visibly shook off her irritation. “Naturally, such a vast undertaking will require time to complete. However, once we have all the blood we need, we will be able to proceed with the spell.”
I scratched my chin thoughtfully. “And you don’t think that might cause mass panic?”
“Not when they realize that this is the solution to our continued existence, no.” She sounded confident, and that dispelled a few of my doubts. What could I say? She had that effect on me. “However, I must concede that there is a chance that not everyone will want to surrender their five-hundred-year lifespan, but that is where Nash’s blood will substitute.”
“So you’re really only giving them the illusion of choice?” I didn’t know how I felt about that.
She turned away and looked through the window at the city below. “Sometimes a queen must make difficult choices for the greater good of her nation.”
The greater good… A hazy image burst into my head, of my mother lining up dissenters on Eris Island and having them executed for daring to speak against her. Some were only guilty of not wanting to participate in a mission where they’d have to kill people. She’d used that phrase then: the greater good. She’d convinced us all, with her charisma and charm, that she was doing it for the benefit of the cult, and for the greatness that she’d bring to us. Even if Kaya’s plan was built on good intentions, I didn’t like the déjà vu that came with it.
“Eventually, there will be no turning back, and Atlantis will see what I have done for them. The surface magicals will come to realize that I am their liberator, not their enemy,” Kaya continued in a faraway voice. “Even if the transition is difficult, it will only be temporary. The first generations will die out, and future generations will learn to be grateful for the gift I have given them, should we fail to remedy the issue with Davin’s Necromancy.”
My stomach damn near evacuated my body. “Pardon?”
“I have been convinced that Davin is still of use to our city, especially after raising Atlantis. If we can engineer a way to utilize his Necromancy on a mass scale, then I will not hesitate to do so, to ensure there is no disgruntlement about the sacrifices that must be made.” She walked up to the statue of Ganymede and rested her hand on one of the folded wings. A small spot of it was rubbed down to a bright shine. She clearly did this a lot. “But the fact is this, Finch: Atlantis is no longer sustainable underwater. Our Bestiary is failing, as you know, and soon it will begin to affect the bubble’s physical integrity. That is when people will die, and not by my hand.”
I went to her and slid my arms around her waist, nuzzling her neck. I couldn’t help it. She pulled me in like a magnet, and suddenly I could understand her position. “You’re right, Kaya. It’s better that they live a shorter life and die of old age, safe in their beds, than drown here. I’ve seen Titanic. Cried like a baby.”
She giggled. “I have no idea what that means.”
“I’m saying that I agree with you. But you know me, I like to go about it in a roundabout way.” I grinned at her. I wanted to see her smile again, instead of carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.
But what about the surface world, Finch? My brain delivered an almighty roundhouse kick. What about the magicals up there, huh?
Flashes of my sister, my friends, the SDC—all the good people I’d met on the rollercoaster of my life—exploded into my skull. They wouldn’t bow before Kaya any more than they’d bowed to Eris. They’d fight tooth and nail to stop her, and where would that leave me? Or them, for that matter? Kaya kept saying she didn’t want to hurt anyone, but what would happen to that promise when her plan turned into a battleground? Nobody walked away from war unscathed.
“I love you, Finch.” She turned in my arms and nestled into me, cutting my thoughts short.
I held her close, feeling deeply. “I love you, too.”
And just like that, the dark clouds of worry parted, leaving nothing but sunshine.
Ten
Nash
Hunting called for patience. In the snowy wilds of Manitoba, I’d crouched in frozen forests for hours, waiting. But this terrain still wasn’t all that familiar to me. I’d been apart from civilization for so long that being surrounded by buildings required some adjustment.
A day had gone by since Melody, Luke, Ryann, and I had decided to set out on our recon missions. Apollo had proven evasive so far, with Kaya taking up a fair wedge of his time. But a hunter didn’t give up. I’d been both hunter and hunted enough in my life to know that. Undeterred, I’d kept eyes on the palace, knowing that Apollo would have to come up for air at some point. And he did, not long after breakfast. Though I almost wasn’t up to the chase.
Give me air in my lungs that hasn’t been recycled through a thousand filters. I could tell the difference. There was a fake smoothness that didn’t hit the same way as the air up top. I missed the cold, stark freshness I used to draw into my lungs first thing in the morning when I left the cabin to get firewood. With each day that passed here, the surface—and my old life—seemed to get farther and farther away.
I trailed Apoll
o through the financial district with Huntress at my side. She drew a few looks, but not Apollo’s. His head was down and his pace quick, the sign of a man on a mission. As a citizen he probably didn’t notice the architecture anymore, but I couldn’t help it. All these big, glittering buildings and picturesque squares were jarring. The luxury and grandeur of the jeweled spires and marble sidewalks reminded me of the division between the rich and the poor on the surface, even down here in this supposedly superior society. If something looked too good to be true, it probably was.
Left turn, Huntress said. I’d gotten distracted by the towering buildings of the Atlantean bank and commerce centers—the underwater version of Wall Street, prettied up to look less intimidating.
“What?” I replied aloud.
Apollo turned left up ahead. She sniffed up at me. Your head’s not all there today, is it?
“You know I don’t like to be among so many people. They can have all the fancy gardens they want. It doesn’t hold a candle to open forest, where you can walk five miles and not see another soul.” I took the left turn, and Huntress bumped me in the leg with her head.
Are you sure that’s all that’s bothering you? You’ve been quieter than normal.
I fixed my gaze on Apollo walking up ahead. All this Finch stuff is bugging me. I feel for the kid. And I don’t trust Kaya as far as I could throw her. Atlantis is up to something.
You mean, it smells fishy? Huntress stuck out her tongue, panting happily.
I had to smile. Good one.
Oh! He stopped… and I smell something good. Huntress’s head snapped forward. Sure enough, Apollo had stopped at one of the carts on the side of the road. It looked like a coffee cart, but Atlanteans didn’t drink the stuff. They were big on tea, though. As for me, I’d always take coffee over anything else. There was nothing like a fresh cup on the porch—morning, noon, night. Anytime. It was the closest thing to perfection I could imagine.
Harley Merlin 16: Finch Merlin and the Blood Tie Page 7