by L. R. W. Lee
I still need to come up with a cute moniker for him, but in the moment I settle for, “Oh my god, you’re observant.”
He gives me a look that says, that’s the best you can come up with? Guess it won’t be that.
He may not be into the moniker, but he is observant. He picked up on the subtle clues to Zeki’s abduction, he sleuthed out my body image issues, now this. He’s perceptive.
My stomach tenses. What else has he picked up about me?
I divert before I bog down overthinking that.
“Regardless, I don’t understand why I couldn’t open the door, I mean, you’re right, I had my ring on. I understand that secret magic wouldn’t have wanted me to bust up your little pow wow, but it shouldn’t have been able to stop me with my ring on, right?”
Harpoc doesn’t reply immediately, and I worry I’m bringing up something that will cause secret magic to hurt him again, but a minute later, as we soar over a serene lake, he says, “I blocked you from opening that door.”
I look up at his scruffy chin.
“There’s secret magic, and there’s secret magic,” he continues.
But of course there is, silly me for not knowing that.
“The secret magic that did a number on me, as well as Nuria, is what I’ll call, general secret magic. It’s what manages the secrets of the universe. But everyone who is… possessed by secret magic—”
“That’s an apt way to describe it,” I interject.
“They also have personal secret magic, or the ability to wield it as specific situations require.”
But of course they do. Why does this not surprise me?
“Secret magic becomes personal when an individual adds intention, like Nuria was teaching you.”
I came here to learn everything I can about secret magic, but it’s as complicated and elusive as grabbing a greased piglet. And yes, I’ve tried, once, at a fair. My only reward was a mouth full of hay and “something”—I didn’t want to know—dark and gooey smeared on my skinned knees.
I fear I may find the same here, but I have to keep trying.
“So you’re saying my ring can beat general secret magic, but not personal secret magic?”
He bobs his head, looking forward. We leave one floating island behind and we’re approaching another, the temperature rising as we do.
It looks to be a desert with black sand. It seems a child was put in charge of setting clumps of prickly pear cacti, because they’re spread out haphazardly. No other vegetation offers shelter for whatever critters lurk, and I’m glad we’re not stopping because you could fry an egg on that sand.
I hand fan my face; my hoodie’s getting toasty.
“Why did you lock me out?” I bring the conversation back to my original question.
He looks down at me. “Why do you think?”
“Well, let’s see, if I had barged in wearing my ring… secret magic would have...” My stomach goes hard, and with it my temper flares, like the sand below. Secret magic hurt him when it wanted to shut me up. The capriciousness of it still makes me fume, but the tension in my gut tells me I can’t be far off. “Would it have hurt you… because it couldn’t touch me?”
“My little harpy learns fast.”
“Damn.”
Harpoc smiles, but I want to spit. Damn secret magic, it uses those you lo… I put the brakes on the thought before it finishes, but my stomach flutters all the same. I care for Harpoc, and he certainly makes my body feel things I’ve never felt before.
But do I love him?
His next question rescues me from answering. “How do you suppose things would have gone if I’d ended up writhing on the floor in front of the client? The god of secrets put down by the very magic he wields.”
I hate that he sealed that secret, but I still grimace.
The leaks are bad enough, but if he’s ever compromised, it’ll spell the end of this empire. I’m okay with no more Empire of Secrets, but as the leader, it would also, no doubt, spell the end of him, and I’m not okay with that.
I rub my brow. I hate what he does, but I can’t hate him. He’s as much a pawn as anyone.
“Is there nothing that can be done to stop Li and China? I mean come on, the privacy of every single American was flushed down the great cosmic toilet, and Americans have no clue. It’s not fair. They had no say.”
“Not unless Li or Terrason break their secret.”
I fume, having as much fun as a colorblind person playing Twister.
We pass another mountain, this one on the left, and I have to crane my neck to see. Its green slopes rise to a white cap occluded by clouds, but I can’t fully appreciate its beauty in my current mood.
I stew for several more minutes as we glide over a village with a windmill in the square, surrounded by green fields of some crop—maybe corn. It’s not marijuana, that much I know.
Terrason’s surprised look when Harpoc made that paper disappear replays in my mind. I can’t help laughing.
Harpoc smiles. “What?”
“You made the nark uneasy when you vanished that paper. He deserved it. I wish I could haunt his dreams and give him something to make him really regret what he did.”
Harpoc chuckles.
“Think of it. How awesome would it be to haunt the dreams of every one of the clients who seals something you don’t agree with? Make them so scared that they break their own confidence. Mwhahaha.” I rub my hands together, drawing a belly laugh from this secretive god.
An idea strikes me. “You sent that secret to one of your secret troves?”
A corner of his mouth hitches. “Looking to loose another secret?”
I snicker. “No, I’ve reformed. My secret releasing days are over.”
“Glad to hear.”
I chuckle. “I was just wondering… you said you suspect Glass has something to do with these leaks. Do you suppose they found one of the troves?”
“Good thinking, but no. That was the first thing I did, check on each and every cache. None had been tampered with.”
“I figured so, but I had to ask.”
“Here we are,” Harpoc says, not long after.
We’re approaching a lush island, but it’s not a jungle like Kivarna where Harpoc took me to see the ruins of his first capital at Mete.
“Welcome to the Island of Quies.”
It reminds me of pictures I’ve seen of the Hawaiian or Virgin Islands with the tops of trees looking like a poofy green blanket thrown over uneven ground. Palm trees sway in a gentle breeze, and I can’t help but let my frustration over secret magic go as I take in a giant body of clear, blue water occupying a large part of the middle.
It still blows my mind that a place like this is a floating island.
We glide over the sandy beach and up and over several hills, finally dropping down to land on the edge of a verdant canyon.
I step from Harpoc’s arms, put the backpack on, then amble over to the sheer cliff and peer down.
Wooden walkways, complete with handrails, line one side of the ravine, but I can’t help shaking my head, literally, because my hearing’s suddenly gone, worse even than the muffled Charlie Brown adults from earlier. I mean, there’s rapids, with water cascading over and around boulders, but I can’t hear a thing other than a few birds calling one another not far away.
I stick a finger in my ear and wiggle it—because that’ll help.
I hear Harpoc’s boots crunch the ground as he stops beside me, wingless once more, and relief washes over.
“Welcome to the Valley of Silence.”
I furrow my brow. It’s an apt place for this empire with its hush-hush secrets, but silence outdoors?
“Anything below a certain point down there makes no sound.” He motions in both directions, the length of the gorge. We stand at about the midpoint.
My mouth opens and closes. I’ve never heard of anything like it. “How?”
He shrugs. “No idea, but there’s nothing like silence and the beauty o
f nature to clear my head.”
I play with the string of my hoodie, staring at the thick moss that lines the tall, rough rock walls. The spray of all the cascading water rushing by, no doubt provides the lichen a conducive environment to grow.
“You come here often?”
I marvel at the cascading water that’s absolutely silent. Unbelievable.
“A fair bit. You’re the first I’ve brought to share it with though.”
I glance over. He looks sad as he stares down into the canyon.
The more I learn about Harpoc, the more of a loner I find him to be. It surprises me. I mean, he said he’s a private being, but I didn’t anticipate how private. Why would a god be such a recluse?
“Why’d you bring me?” I turn toward him.
I see his Adam’s apple bob before he turns and faces me, his gaze on the ground. He’s nervous, but why?
Several seconds pass before he looks into my eyes.
“Because I want you to know the real me.” It comes out hushed, like he’s shy about it.
But those words…. It takes everything in me to keep my jaw from hitting the ground. Mister Secretive-Sexy-Bod-God wants little ol’ me to know the real him?
His expression is somber, and that alone stops me from making a joke.
He hasn’t so much as shifted, and he’s still looking into my eyes. He’s dead serious.
Dang. I’d asked him to be forthcoming. To a great extent he has been since then, but never in my wildest imaginings did I expect this.
He looks like he’s holding his breath, waiting for some response from me. “I want you to know the real me.” His words swirl through my head again.
I place what I hope is a reassuring hand on the sleeve of his leather jacket. “Don’t Nuria, Aura, and Idris know the real you?”
He shakes his head.
I narrow my eyes. He’s ancient. He’s been working with them forever.
“There’s a difference between knowing someone and knowing someone. And you’re right, we know each other intimately. We’ve been through a lot together. I count them blood brothers and sisters.” He places a hand over mine. “But they don’t know me like you do. I’ve never fully let them in.”
My stomach flutters, but call me confused.
We shared our hopes and dreams that night in the hotel pool. He said he’d never told another soul. But it seems highly improbable that Nuria and the others haven’t seen the inside of his place to deduce what I have about him from his furnishings.
I snicker to myself. Although he’s probably never treated any of them like teddy bears while sleeping. Maybe he’s never told them he enjoys spending time with them, like he did with me in Greece and Turkey. I guarantee he’s never dressed any of them.
I’m not sure what to make of it. I mean it’s definitely “something” but….
“They’ve never seen secret magic attack me.” His jaw clenches, like it’s a confession, an admission of weakness.
“Really?” My pitch rises.
He’s the head honcho, so maybe it’s true. Can’t have your followers thinking you’re weak. It really is lonely at the top, at least for Harpoc, if that’s the case.
He looks away. “I’ve never been willing to take that risk.”
My eyes go wide. I’m taking a risk with my body image; it seems he’s taking one with this.
Horrific images from last night maraud through my thoughts. “Did you know what would happen if you answered my question?”
“I suspected.” He grins.
Chapter Twenty-Three
My heart rate increases.
He attempted to answer my question last night even though he knew what secret magic would probably do to him.
Why would he do that?
I still can’t believe Harpoc wants me to see the real him. Why? And why me? He’s an ancient god.
“Harpoc, why?” I clutch his sleeve, insistence filling my words. Only the handful of birds chattering breaks the silence.
His gaze moves over my shoulder, like he’s collecting his thoughts.
I wish I had something solid to cling to because it feels like he’s about to say something that will flip my world upside down, one more time.
After a long minute he finally looks into my eyes again and says, “Is it so bad to want someone to know the real you?”
I exhale more dramatically than I intend, making him chuckle. It feels like he backed off what he was going to say, and I’m not sure if I’m glad or sad. Talk about whiplash.
I’m left wondering what he really wanted to tell me because this… this makes no sense.
I look up into those beautiful gold and silver eyes. “Unlike you, I’ve never wanted anyone to know the ‘real’ me. I’m too afraid. You’re braver than me, and I’m truly honored that you feel comfortable enough to want me to know you that way”—I let a corner of my mouth hitch, trying to lighten things up—“even though you do like your secrets.”
He opens his mouth, as if to respond, then closes it again and smiles. “Perhaps once you’ve been around millennia, you’ll feel differently.”
I have to say, I’m still getting used to the idea of living forever, but is that really it? Is he going through some sort of mid-immortal-life crisis? But it still doesn’t explain, why with me? I’m a noob. There’s got to be more.
My chest tightens. Whatever it really is, it will eventually come out. I just hope I can handle whatever it is when it does.
His mood lightens as he says, “Now then, I promised we’d train. Want me to take the backpack?”
“No, I’m good. I got it.”
We head over to a set of stairs; the stained, wooden handrail is the only thing sticking above the top of the cliff, and he leads the way down the mountain of steps—my sneakers and Harpoc’s boots are the only noise other than those chatty birds, and my brain still can’t grasp it.
Water from the mist sits on the wooden planks of the stairway the further down we go and I’m afraid I hear Little Miss Graceful, aka Grace for short, laughing in my head.
Please no. I’ll beg if I have to because I don’t want to end up swept away in the silent river rushing by below. Just the thought of it sends a chill through me.
Gold eye, silver eye.
Halfway down the steps, Harpoc stops and turns. “It’s silent from here until we reach the end of the gorge.”
I clutch the railing tight as we continue down the stairs. He’s right, there’s not a sound, not his boots, not my shoes, not the water, not even the sound of my breathing as we continue down.
It feels like someone stuffed cotton balls in my ears and it puts me on edge.
What if something attacks us, no one will hear our screams.
You really think that’ll happen with him along, Pell?
I exhale, hearing my inner voice eases some of my angst.
Do you want me to talk to you, Pell?
I hesitate only a second. I may regret it, but… please.
You got it. My inner minion’s jazzed, practically giddy, in fact. So what shall we talk about?
Anything but crashing and burning.
Burning? That’s hardly going to happen in these wet conditions, Pell.
I roll my eyes. Okay, I asked for that. No crashing then.
Down. Down. Down. Step after step.
I clutch the handrail, taking it slow as a sloth.
I exhale heavily—not that I hear it—when we reach the walkway that clings to the gorge walls maybe eight feet above the rushing water.
The fine spray mists my face and clothes, and the path gets downright soggy the further we go. I never let go of the handrail; ain’t no way I’m giving Grace any encouragement by doing so.
Gold eye, silver eye.
Harpoc’s maybe five feet in front of me.
Isn’t this just the coolest thing you’ve ever seen, Pell?
Yeah, sure.
Ooo, look at that rainbow, Pell.
I peel my eyes from where they
’ve been riveted to Harpoc’s glorious butt and look out over the water and see the arc of colors. In fact, there are three rainbows. I stop and wave the hand that’s not clutching the handrail, disturbing the spray of one. As soon as I draw my hand back, it reforms.
That is seriously cool.
You’re rainbow touched, Pell. Think it’ll bring you good luck?
I can’t help but laugh—not that I hear it—but my inner minion does and giggles. I roll my eyes because my inner minion is me, and if she giggled, I giggled.
Get a grip, Pell, I tell myself.
Harpoc stops, somehow sensing I’m not behind him—“somehow” being the operative word, without hearing to aide him—then retraces his steps and motions what I interpret to mean we’re nearly there, wherever there is.
I resume gripping the handrail, hand over hand, for all I’m worth, as he follows a sharp left in the valley wall, then climbs six steps.
The tromp of his boots hitting wood and the squeak of my sneakers on the wet surface reach me in an instant, and I sigh. “Blessed sound. Never knew I’d miss you so.” I wave my arms to add drama.
Harpoc chuckles.
We’ve reached a fairly good-size platform. I’d call it a dock, but there are handrails lining the whole of the perimeter of the maybe twenty by thirty foot space. The sound of flowing water enhances the soothing backdrop, and I relax further.
But the next second, my feet slip out from under me and I swear my brain rattles as I land hard on my butt.
“Gr… ace,” I growl.
Harpoc’s there in an instant, bending down, worry lining his face. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, fine.” It comes out a groan. I extend my hands, and he pulls me up, shaking his head and grinning.
“Don’t say it,” I say, feeling the wetness of my pants against my skin.
He mimes zipping his lips, and I crack up. “Couldn’t resist sealing a secret for me, huh?”
He shrugs, but I can’t miss how his eyes dance. “I thought this would be a good place to practice, but I may have been wrong with Grace along.”
I roll my eyes. “I shall attempt to keep her in line.”
“She seems to have a mind of her own.”
“Yes, well….” There’s nothing I can say to defend myself when it comes to Grace, surely he knows that by now.