by Sadie Moss
“You’ve got something to do with this?” He frowns.
The mage is definitely in his sixties, with wisps of silver hair on top of his mostly bald head, and wearing an old-fashioned, dark purple robe. Older generations, I’ve learned about this world, are the ones who wear robes. Everyone else tends to only wear them for things like appearances in court or other special occasions that have to do specifically with magic.
“No!” I put my hands up in self-defense. “But the people we were fighting do! The ones with the owl on their door. They’re a cult, they’re after us, and we’re trying to stop them! Did you see what happened?”
“…some of it,” the man says, still squinting suspiciously at us.
I don’t have time to worry about anything but the truth. Just like when I blurted my real identity to Bianca in the club that night, words just spew out of my mouth. If we fail, it won’t matter who knows I’m a Dull Worlder anyway.
“Did you see that there was another girl who looked just like me?”
After a moment, he nods. “Yeah. Thought you were twins.”
“We are twins, but not—I’m not from this world. I’m from the other one, the Dull World!”
He jerks his head back, staring at me. “But you can do magic.”
“I have a generator!” I lie. I used to have one, and I don’t have time to explain to this guy why I can do magic now. “I got it from the fae; it channels the magic in the air around me so that I can perform spells. I don’t have any of my own!”
That, at last, seems to satisfy him. “So they’re trying to… what? Bring you two together? So what?”
Kasian steps forward. I can sense the urgency in him, but his voice is calm when he speaks.
“This is all the result of the Cult of Singularity believing in a prophecy,” he says. “They’re destroying the world. We have to stop them or everything, including us, will disappear. You’ll disappear. The world around us is falling to pieces, and the only way to stop it is to get Gabbi here back to her proper world.”
The mage seems to consider this. Seconds tick down as a flash of lightning brightens the sky around us, and just when I’m about to scream in frustration, he nods. “This way,” he tells me. “If you’re trying to get into that owl building, you can’t do it from the front. They’ve got more traps and alarm systems than nearly any other building in this neighborhood. Come with me.”
Holding an arm over his head, he leads us into his own building, which is falling to rubble even as we move through it. I have to dodge around and weave through, my heart hammering in my throat, nervous as hell that a chunk of the ceiling is going to fall on one of us.
We get through the building to the back, and the mage points at some stones on the ground of the alley. It’s all cobblestone instead of cement here.
“Those stones, if you tap on them, will open up into a back entrance into the building,” he explains. “I’ve seen ’em doing it loads of times.”
“Thank you.” Kasian nods fervently. “We appreciate it.”
“Yeah, yeah. Just stop the world from falling down around our ears, and we’ll call it even,” the man replies.
Then he’s gone, disappearing back inside his house. I have no idea if he’s going to try to find sanctuary there or make his way out into Ravendark to try to find shelter, but I don’t let myself dwell on it. Just like the other people we passed, the only way I can help him is by confronting the cult. By snatching the disc and going back home.
I creep up to the stones and tap on them, my heart beating so loudly in my ears I can hardly even hear the destruction around me.
Like a door with well-oiled hinges, the stones sweep down and open, revealing a ladder down into darkness.
“Okay.” I glance up at my men, steeling myself. “Let’s go.”
Time to end this.
Chapter 30
We get to the bottom of the ladder and find that the path slopes upward rapidly into what seems to be the basement of the building. I suspect the cultists hijacked the local sewer system and just modified an old manhole in order to make this secret entrance work.
The basement seems to be empty and abandoned, and it rumbles just like the street above. There are various maps of the city hung up on the walls, especially maps of Radcliffe, lists of classes that are taught in various departments, and pictures of Roxie and me all over the walls.
Holy crap. This is serious stalker-level stuff.
It’s still a bit startling how alike Roxie and I look. The only way I can tell who’s who is that if it’s a picture of me, then one of the guys is in the picture as well. Roxie’s pictures show her with all combinations of people—men that I suspect were her flings, and large groups of friends—and Bianca’s in almost all of them as well. That must’ve been how the cult figured they should have Gunner date Bianca.
“Fuck, this is creepy,” Theo notes as we stare at all of this collected information on Roxie and me. This basically seems to be the room where they planned out how to stalk us so that they could keep an eye on us constantly. Yikes.
Nobody’s down here right now though, so we carefully creep up to the first floor.
Around us, I can still see some signs of disintegration. It’s not as bad as outside, but little cracks are appearing in things, and there are thick trails of dust floating in the air. I feel like I should put a mask over my nose and mouth or something.
Cross holds up a hand and we all freeze. “Did you hear that?” he whispers.
Now that I’m paying attention, I can hear it—muffled voices. And then what sounds like a scream.
Roxie.
I try to move as fast as I can while also staying quiet and keeping to the shadows. I hope that there isn’t some kind of internal security system, and that if there is, nobody’s manning it. Someone spying us creeping around on security cameras would spell our doom for sure.
The voices get louder as we move down the grand hallway. There seems to be a large room just on the other side of the main staircase. This place definitely isn’t as fancy as Roxie’s family home out in the countryside, but it’s still meant to be the kind of place that lets you know the owners are rich. Which doesn’t make much sense to me, seeing as nobody’s supposed to know about this place, and it’s not like the cultists are showing it off to people every weekend, but nothing about these nutcases makes much sense anyway.
Hawksmith does seem pretentious as fuck though. So I guess if this is his place, I do kind of get it.
As we creep forward, I see that there is in fact a large ballroom back here with double doors leading in. I press myself against the staircase as my heart skips a beat.
Floating in the middle of the room several feet off the floor, glowing a little from the magic that’s wrapped around her, is Roxie. She’s trapped in some kind of metal structure with curved pincer-like arms that extend down from the ceiling. They hum and glow, and the magic that binds her is flowing from them.
Roxie looks absolutely pissed. I wonder if that’s how I look when I’m angry.
“You are idiots,” she spits, her voice filled with venom. “Don’t you realize what you’re doing? The worlds are connected for a reason, you assholes! You can’t have one without the other!”
Her screams fall on deaf ears though.
“You must fulfill your destiny!” I recognize that voice—I have a feeling I’ll be hearing it in my nightmares for the rest of my life. It’s Hawksmith. “Break our world apart from the Dull World. Break our chains! Be the savior that you know you want to be!”
“That’s not how this fucking works, dickbag!” Roxie screams back at him. “This is just breaking both worlds! Are you not hearing what’s going on outside?”
Honestly, there would kind of be a perverse satisfaction in failing to stop these people. Because if we do, these idiots will finally see that they’re wrong and that this isn’t how the prophecy works, or how the connection between the two worlds works. The Dull World isn’t a dead weight, it do
esn’t leech magic or power from the Hidden World, and it’s time these nutcases let go of that insane fantasy.
Of course, the downside to that—admittedly immense—satisfaction would be that we’ll all be dead because both worlds will be destroyed, and everyone I care about will be gone so…
Yeah. It’s probably best that we don’t fail.
“Look,” Theo whispers, drawing me out of my thoughts as he jerks his chin at Hawksmith. The disc is in a small leather pocket hanging from a chain around the cult leader’s neck.
Hell yes.
“Cross, you’re the best at battle magic,” I whisper. “If you and I go after the cultists, Kasian, do you think you can lockpick whatever spell’s holding Roxie up there?”
“I can try,” Kasian replies.
“Theo, you’re good with illusions, see if you can distract most of the cultists while Cross and I go after the head asshole.”
Theo nods grimly.
I kiss each of them once, hard, pressing my lips to theirs with everything I have. We don’t have time for more than this. For drawn out goodbyes or declarations. But there’s so fucking much I wish I could say.
Because the truth is, this might be the last time I ever kiss these men.
If we fail, we’ll all be dead soon anyway. Or at least, I will. I’ll make sure of that.
And if we succeed…
I’ll be back in the Dull World. Where I belong.
My heart seizes with sadness at that thought, but I don’t let myself dwell on it now. Instead, I let the fear and adrenaline pumping through my blood lend me focus, turning back toward the massive ballroom where Roxie is being held.
“One… two…” I take a deep breath. “Three!”
“Hey, fuckface!” Cross yells, firing off a bolt of arcane energy that hits the leader smack in the middle of his back. “Miss us?”
Hawksmith and his minions whip around, and we throw ourselves at them.
It is, if I may brag a little, a pretty fair fight. There are only four of us, but we’re all damn good at magic. I’m not the best at magic in most circumstances, but the way I learned it was through pure fight-or-flight desperation. Survival mode. I had to be able to improvise and do spells because I had to keep my cover, and I had to fight for my life all the time. So if there is one kind of magic, or way of using magic, that I’m good at, it’s casting spells to keep myself alive.
For the first few minutes, it’s hard to say who has the upper hand. I’m getting hit with magic right, left, and center, but I’m also dealing it right back. So even if I’m going to be one big walking bruise tomorrow, so are the cultists.
Nobody’s easily taking the victory.
But there are definitely more of them than there are of us, and slowly but surely… the tide shifts. We’re all determined and desperate, but the cultists have that insane passion that comes from being a zealot. They believe in their cause with a fanaticism that is terrifying but also weirdly strengthening for them, and they start to beat us back.
I grit my teeth, fear gnawing a hole in my heart. No way am I going to let them win.
We’re running out of time though. The building is shaking more and more, and I can only guess what’s going on outside. If this goes on much longer, we’ll have to switch to plan B.
I can see that damn disc hanging from the head asshole’s neck, and when Cross launches a fresh attack at him I seize the opportunity and lunge for the disc.
Only Hawksmith wasn’t as distracted by Cross as I thought.
He turns, creating a spell that looks like a glowing blue cat’s cradle, and then he flings it at me. The cat’s cradle expands, wrapping itself around me like a net, and before I can even think of a way to counter it, another cult member is launching a spell at me too, and I’m being flung across the room, landing hard right next to the glowing trap Roxie is held in.
Dammit! No!
I struggle hard, but I can’t move at all. My arms are pinned to my sides, my legs constricted as the magic hums around me and a second set of pincers descend from the ceiling. A second later, I find myself floating up in the air, surrounded by magic.
Trapped. Just like Roxie.
Fuck.
Chapter 31
I keep struggling against my bonds, even though I don’t think it’s really doing anything.
Roxie is screaming at the top of her lungs, threatening any cult members who get close. But with her hands bound, she can’t do any of the gestures to cast spells, and neither can I.
The guys are fighting hard, not to take down the cult now, but to try to get to me, and I hate to see the anger and desperation on their faces.
Fuck, I should’ve killed myself when I had the chance. I should’ve ended things like that. I had my window to stop this, my moment to do things differently, and just like Madame Mulfrey predicted, I didn’t take it. Now both Roxie and I are stuck, and the world is literally shaking to pieces around us, and I don’t even know how to begin to fix this.
“Get out of here!” I yell at the guys.
I know it’s a ridiculous thing to yell. The whole world is falling apart. Where are they going to run to? Where is safe? Nowhere. Nothing is safe. There’s nowhere for us to go because soon we’re all going to be nowhere and be nothing.
But at the same time, there’s this stupid survival instinct that’s telling me to just get them out of here, away from the immediate danger. To keep them alive a little bit longer.
“Not on your life!” Theo replies. Kasian and Cross are too busy with their own battles. Kasian’s given up on trying to get Roxie out and is just trying to stay alive, defending himself against the other cultists.
Dammit. This isn’t going well. This isn’t going well at all. I strain and struggle, trying to think of something, trying to get even a little bit of wiggle room in my fingers so that I can cast a spell—
I hear a crash like the front door flying off its hinges, and a moment later, a blast of magic flies into the room, zooming across the space and plowing into one of the cultists. It hits him square in the chest, sending him flying backward.
“Gabbi! Roxie!” Bianca strides into the room, wielding two daggers, one in each hand. I’ve never seen them before. They’re oddly thin and sharp looking, simmering with some kind of magic. Something about them reminds me of the fae disc, and it suddenly strikes me that holy shit, those are fae daggers.
She glances around at Hawksmith and the rest of the cultists, her lips curling into a snarl. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
The cultists stare at her for a half-second and then, with a series of yells that send terrifying shivers up my spine, a whole legion of fae burst into the room from behind her. Striding in with them is none other than Bianca’s guard captain, wielding a long, wicked looking pike.
Holy shit. I’m so glad the fae are on our side because they look nothing short of terrifying, giving these inhuman shrieks and going for the cultists with their daggers and swords, magic bursting out of them without any need for actual spell casting. The fae are magic, in a way that we aren’t, and they don’t need to cast spells the way that we do. It just sort of… happens.
“Sorry we’re late!” Bianca yells as she ducks under a spell one of the cultists hurls at her. “Anzac needed a lot of persuading. But look at these! Cool, huh?”
She throws one of the daggers across the room, and it slices the shoulder of a broad-shouldered cultist wearing a cloak. Blood spurts and the cultist staggers—and then the dagger reappears in Bianca’s hand. She grins a little maniacally, turning to face a new opponent.
“Get the disc!” Kasian yells to the fae.
“Never!” Hawksmith shouts. He grabs the disc, hoisting it high as he gestures with his free hand, magic crackling up his arm and in his fingertips.
He’s going to destroy it, I realize, and I scream, but Cross is already bodily launching himself at the guy and tackling him.
Obviously Hawksmith did not expect someone to come at him with fi
sts instead of magic—or magical weapons, at least—and he goes down, yelling and shrieking like a child who’s having his lollipop taken away.
Cross’s fists are flying, a look of grim concentration on his face, and Theo leaps on the leader too, blasting magic. Hawksmith can’t protect himself from both at once, but he’s strong enough not to stay down for long. He sends a blast of magic at Theo that knocks him backward, and he’s about to unleash something on Cross when suddenly, Kasian is there, grabbing the disc out of Hawksmith’s hand and yanking it away.
The cult leader bellows out his rage, and Cross clocks him cold on the temple. The man slumps against the ground, unconscious.
Kasian rushes toward me. “Here! Gabbi!”
He has the disc out, and my heart soars and breaks at the same time.
I don’t want to leave them. I don’t want to go. But I have to, and right now stopping this insane destruction is the only thing that matters.
Roxie and I are hovering about five feet off the floor, but Kasian’s tall enough that he can reach me. He can put the disc in my hand, I know he can.
He nears the glowing magic keeping me aloft and tries to reach out to give the disc to me—but he’s shoved back.
He tries again. Once again, he’s shoved back.
“There’s some kind of shield!” he yells. “I’m trying—” He grunts. “It’s like two magnets with the same polarity. I can’t get close!”
Fuck! I struggle more against my bonds, but the most I can do is wiggle my fingers.
Wait. I can wiggle my fingers!
Not a lot, not enough to cast a spell, but enough to make part of one.
I’ve always thought magic is a lot like dancing. And just like in a dance, you can do it alone—or you can pair up with a partner, and the two of you combine to make a dance piece together.
“Roxie!” I call over, my pulse hammering in my throat. “Can you move your fingers?”
Kasian is having to fight off more cult members trying to get the disc back from him. Several fae move in to help him, fending off the attack. The building is full-on vibrating at this point, chunks falling down from the ceiling, cracks appearing in the floor, the walls groaning as they start to come apart. With a full-out battle raging around us, nobody’s paying attention to what Roxie and I are doing.