This certainly sounded like a plan thought up by the Darks.
It was fucking ridiculous.
Also, Feng was essentially a gigantic bomb, so. Yeah.
Completely fucking ridiculous.
Justin turned the doorknob slowly.
It clicked in the silence.
And there Feng stood, Justin in one hand, a burning cigar in the other, grinning at us like he thought he’d already made it free, strapped to the hilt with whatever it was on his chest, and as the door began to open, I followed his gaze as his eyes darted around the room yet again.
And I could see then. What he saw.
Those little wooden spheres.
They were stuffed everywhere in the room.
Oh sure, they were hidden away, but now that I knew what I was looking for, now that I knew this motherfucking asshole had no intention of letting us go, I could see exactly what his plan was.
The Darks came.
They knew movement would show on the map.
Myrin told me about marching upon Meridian City.
He knew we would come here.
And he’d gotten us all in a single room.
A single room with dozens of Feng’s bombs.
But see, even as this realization crashed over me, even as I was convinced that we were all about to die and I was going to fail my one godsdamned job, I should have had more faith. I should have realized that the star dragon, and maybe even the gods themselves, had a vested interest in keeping me alive.
They were supposed to be impartial.
But I didn’t really think that they were.
Gods sucked, but they weren’t evil.
And if I was going to face Myrin in some awesomely epic showdown where I’d ultimately emerge victorious and live happily ever after, then of course something was going to happen to get us out of this situation.
The doorknob turned.
Justin pulled the door open.
Feng said, “Dis has been fun, but iz time for—”
“What in the holy fucking balls of shit is all this, then?” a loud (and much beloved) voice screeched. I’d never been happier to hear that grating sound in my life.
Feng turned.
Gary stood in the doorway, glitter starting to drift off him in that way it did when he was really working his way up into a rage. There was no love lost between Justin and him, but even Gary understood the importance of the Prince.
Tiggy stood next to him, cocking his head at Feng like a gigantic puppy. “Hi.”
And for a moment, I almost felt bad for Feng and for what was about to happen to him.
I shouted, “Tiggy! You smash that motherfucker!”
The inquisitive expression immediately fell off his face, and the half-giant snarled at Feng. “TIGGY SMASH!”
“Oh my goodness,” Feng whispered. “Dis iz gonna—”
Tiggy didn’t even give him a chance to finish his sentence. His fist was already cocked back by the time Feng had uttered his first word.
There are certain benefits in having a half-giant as a best friend. One, a half-giant tends to have a really awesome face made for smiling that you just want to squish between your hands as you kiss their nose. Two, they give the best hugs, these all-encompassing things that cause your bones to creak. Three, they are so much smarter than people give them credit for, even if they tend to speak differently than most. Four, they are more loyal than any other creature you could ever meet.
And five, they love to smash.
Feng didn’t stand a chance.
Ryan was already moving by the time Tiggy’s fist collided with Feng’s face. Feng was knocked back, head jerking to the right, blood and shards of teeth spraying from his mouth. Justin went flying too but was caught by Ryan before he could hit the floor. There was a moment when Justin looked up at Ryan with stars in his eyes that I considered shoving one of Feng’s bombs up his ass just to see what would happen, but I pushed it away, watching as Feng flew back against Mama’s desk with a loud crack before he slumped to the floor. A few of the bombs fell to the floor and split, spilling black powder in little trails in his lap and along the floor. Feng groaned, his face not exactly the same shape it’d been just a minute before.
Letnia stood in front of Mama, shielding her even as Mama tried to shove her aside. Gary was cooing at Tiggy, who looked pleased with himself. Morgan and Randall started to relax. Justin and Ryan stood, and Ryan looked toward me, arching an eyebrow, asking silently if I’d seen how badass he was. Gods, he was so hot. A douchebag, sure, but I wanted to ruin him.
Then Feng laughed.
I looked down at the bloody wasteland that was his face. There was a broken tooth stuck in blood on his chin. His nose was curved to the right. I could see the impression of Tiggy’s fist on his left cheek. One eye was already swelling shut. He was a mess, a gross, disgusting tragedy, but he was smiling and laughing, and it was the most horrible sound I’d ever heard.
I hunkered down in front of him, his one good eye tracking my movement even as he chuckled still. “Sorry about that,” I said. “But you know how it is. You threaten a half-giant’s family, half-giant messes up your whole face. Don’t know if it’s that funny, though. Unless somehow the joke’s gone over my head. Which, okay. Sometimes that happens.”
“Not… that,” he said. “You… tink… you’ve won.”
“We have,” I told him as kindly as I could. “Today, we have. And we will win the rest of it too. That’s the difference between us and the Darks. We know—”
“You talk. And talk.”
“It’s certainly not monologuing, if that’s what you’re—”
“Here. I show you.”
I cocked my head at him.
“Behold,” he said, nodding toward his lap.
I looked down.
Black powder coated his front where the wooden spheres had cracked or broken. Some were still intact. Up close, I could smell it now, the powder. It was sharp and dank, like the Dark Woods after it rained. I thought maybe there were notes of wormwood and agrimony, pungent and thick. It was all over the floor underneath him. Underneath me.
And then I saw it.
The smoke curling up from his fisted hand, which rested on his lap.
He laughed again as his fingers unfurled.
The cigar. Letnia’s cigar. Squished from his grip.
But the tip was still lit. There was a burn mark on his palm, the skin blistered and red.
“Boom,” Feng said with a bloody grin, and tipped the cigar so it rolled off his fingers toward a pile of the black powder.
I didn’t have time to think. I could hear him laughing. I could feel the blood rushing in my head, could feel my heart bursting in my chest, the only thoughts in my head bright and flashing NO NO NO NO.
The cigar hit the powder and ignited.
NO NO NO—
There was a flash and—
Seconds turned to hours, because one moment there was ignition, and the next, Morgan was at my side, arms stretched out wide, palms facing forward. I felt his magic roll right over me as he started to swing his arms forward. The room around us burst into a kaleidoscope of color as his hands clapped together, the sound as loud as thunder. And then he spread his hands again, just as quickly, and there was such power that I was gagging on it and—
The powder reacted and Feng exploded.
But it was contained. It was controlled. The explosion arced outward, fire reaching, burning, but it stopped before it could overtake me or anyone else in the room. It was like there was a spherical barrier that surrounded Feng, turning back the strength of the fire he’d carried upon himself. The fire had no place else to go, so it curled in on itself violently. And if I focused, if I looked just hard enough, I could see the outline of the sphere, the curve of it, the shifting colors faint along its surface mixing with arcane symbols I’d never seen before. I could barely make out Feng inside the sphere, but part of Mama’s desk must have been caught inside the magic, as the fla
mes crawled along it, scarring and scorching the wood, splintering it off in pieces at the force of it.
Morgan had caught it in time using magic I’d never seen before. The rest of the little bombs in the office were unaffected.
I looked up at him slowly, barely able to tear my gaze away from the display in front of me. He stood above me, robes billowing, a look of extraordinary concentration on his face, hands spread apart and curved, like he was holding the sphere. A bead of sweat dripped down his cheek.
“What the fuck,” I breathed reverently.
The fire was… alive in a way I’d never seen before. It was almost snakelike in the way it roiled and twisted in whatever prison Morgan had trapped it in. It moved jerkily, pressing against some invisible wall. It was bright, casting shadows upon the walls and floors. And even though it was confined, I could still feel the heat of it against my face.
It wasn’t normal, though. Because if Morgan had done what I thought he had, then it should have already scorched through all the oxygen in the bubble he’d trapped it in.
But still it burned.
Feng was… no longer alive. I could barely make him out through the flames. Or rather, what was left of him. But instead of charred flesh and blood spilled, it looked as if he’d turned to ash, remaining wholly intact. Whatever had happened to him had happened quickly.
Most everyone else in the room was as entranced as I was. Because even if they didn’t necessarily understand exactly what was happening, they at least had a beginning grasp of the extent of the magic being used. My own magic was wide and expansive, wild and untamed. The strength Morgan had, the sheer control over his magic, over whatever Dark fire had ignited from Feng’s powder, was almost beyond anything I’d seen before.
It was one thing to uncontrollably decimate a sea of sand mermaids after giving in to fear and anger. But this was specific. This was tight and neat and so far beyond anything I could do. This was what decades—even centuries—of experience brought forth. If I could even be half the wizard that Morgan was, I’d be doing just fine.
I didn’t know how hard it was. I remembered the way I’d felt after the sand mermaids and Myrin, my body depleted and sore from expending so much energy at once.
To have the concentration that Morgan was exhibiting was just—
Gods. Morgan was a hard-core motherfucker.
Randall moved first. He came to stand next to Morgan and placed a hand on his shoulder. Morgan’s hands were shaking, but the tremors lessened at Randall’s touch. And it hit me then, maybe more than it had ever before, just how much these two had been through, how much they must have meant to each other. I knew how I felt every time Morgan was near, like I was safe. Like I was home.
I wondered if it was the same for them. Morgan was my mentor. I would do anything for him.
Randall had been his mentor. If they were anything like Morgan and me, then I had severely underestimated Randall’s… well. Randall’s everything.
The fire burned brighter.
It began to thrash back and forth, and I thought there were the tiniest pulses of light against whatever walls that surrounded it, little ripples that echoed along the surface of the bubble. I thought I saw the brief outline of arcane symbols (triangles and stars and crescent moons that only appeared toward the back of Morgan’s Grimoire, a place he wouldn’t let me study for long, saying I wasn’t ready for such things), but they were gone before I could see them clearly.
And then Randall spoke in a tone I’d never heard before, soft and kind.
He said, “There is containment.”
Morgan sighed and hung his head.
Randall said, “And now there must be compression.”
“It’s bigger,” Morgan muttered. “Bigger than I thought it would be. This is… isn’t normal. It’s from him. It feels like him.”
As long as I lived, I hoped I never again had to see the look of utter devastation that crossed Randall’s face. It was brief, no more than a second or two, but it was there, because there was no doubt who Morgan was speaking about.
This thing, this fire, was from Myrin.
And if Myrin had sent it with Feng, if this whole thing had been a trap, then Myrin had meant for Morgan and Randall to get caught in it.
“It doesn’t matter,” Randall said. “Not now. Morgan. Compress.”
Morgan gritted his teeth, his fingers twitching into hooks, and the fire fought harder, like it knew what he was trying to do. I didn’t know what he was trying to do, not exactly, but the context was there.
Containment.
Compression.
Randall was helping him. I didn’t know how, but just being there, a hand on his shoulder, was helping. Maybe it would have been enough. Maybe they could have handled it on their own.
But they’d done that before. They’d handled Myrin on their own, and I was beginning to understand just how much that must have torn at their hearts and souls.
And I’d been the asshole, making things worse for them with my anger. With my disdain. Maybe they should have come for me sooner, given my parents the life they deserved from the start. And maybe I would never understand why they didn’t, why they left us to be as we were until that day in the alley.
And yet….
Some part of them had to have known it would be him. Myrin. The star dragon hadn’t been specific, not to Vadoma. And even though this dark man in shadows could have been any villain mired in ridiculous machinations, some part of them had to have known that Myrin would rise again. Even if they hadn’t said it out loud, even if they’d only thought it in the darkest parts of the night, lying awake and thinking what if, what if, what if. They had to have known.
Brother. Cornerstone.
They weren’t alone in this.
I took my place on Morgan’s other side, putting my hand on his shoulder, mirroring Randall. I swallowed thickly at the thrum of energy under my fingers. It was distinctly Morgan, with bright flashes of Randall running through it, but it was different. Bigger, somehow. And it felt far, far older than Morgan’s magic ever had.
They both looked over at me in surprise.
I grinned at them and shrugged. “I wanted to be one of the cool kids, I guess. It’s not every day that Randall gets all touchy-feely. Of course I’m gonna get in on this shit. Oh, and by the way, Randall, I’m giving you so much crap for this later. And maybe even a hug, if I think you won’t make my insides go on my outside.”
“No promises,” Randall warned.
“Good!” I said cheerfully. “Now that that’s squared away, what say we kill this motherfucking fire bullshit and then go kick some ass?”
“Sam—”
I shook my head at Morgan. “It’s not just you two anymore. Not with this. Not with him.”
They both looked shocked.
I was rather pleased with myself for that. “Just… we’ll figure it out, okay? But later. Let’s get rid of this thing before it gets out of control. You know Mama would murder us if her office went up in flames. And in case you hadn’t noticed, there’s at least a dozen of those little bombs shoved in the shelves over there.”
“That motherfucker,” Mama growled. “Sam, part of your magic had better be bringing things back to life, because I am going to murder him.”
And that—
My skin started to buzz—
Everything stuttered a little bit after that, didn’t it?
Because I could do that. If I wanted to. If I thought hard enough.
Couldn’t I?
Randall looked at me sharply as I took in a—
(The colors whirled around me, a spinning corona of light that pooled between my cupped hands, so bright I almost had to look away. It began to cascade downward, like a waterfall, the drops of light spreading along the ground, pulsating slowly. The forest faded around me. The sky above darkened. Everything else faded away.
I thought, It isn’t fair.
And then something hooked itself into my head and heart and pul
led.
The air sizzled around me.
The lights grew brighter, and I had to—
There was a flutter of wings against my palm, the barest of touches as the bird came back to life.
I took in a—)
(And there I was, standing in the throne room, my beloved on a stone slab, eyes closed, skin pale, and he was young, and I closed my eyes and opened them and then he was old, and it didn’t matter, because I would lose him, one way or another. The star dragon had told me there would be loss, Vadoma had shown me the same, and either Ryan would fall at the hands of an enemy or he would be pulled away by the hands of Death when he was old and gray, and I would be stuck here, young and almost immortal, watching almost everyone I loved dying around me while I survived.
I thought, It isn’t fair.
It isn’t fair.
It isn’t fair.
But it wouldn’t have to stay that way, would it? Because I had brought the bird back. I’d brought it back, and all it’d taken was the life of the earth around me, the trees and the grass. They’d been blackened, but it’d been a small price to pay for a life, and it would take more, sure, it would probably take a lot more, but it’d be worth it. Even if I blackened the whole of Verania, it’d be worth it because he would be at my side. No matter how many times he passed through the veil, I could call him back again and again and again.
I took in a—)
—great, gasping breath.
“Sam,” Randall said, and even though he couldn’t know what I was thinking of, couldn’t know the memory that ran through me like lightning, the tone of voice suggested he knew something. Randall was powerful, but he wasn’t omniscient. But the problem was that he was eerily prescient, and that didn’t bode well for me.
“I got it,” I said through gritted teeth. “I’m here.”
His gaze lingered on me for a moment longer, searching for what, I didn’t know. Somehow I was able to look him directly in the eye, not allowing myself to be the first to turn away. My skin crawled, but I held his gaze because he didn’t expect me to.
It only lasted a moment longer. He looked back at Morgan, who was sweating profusely. “Compress,” he said again.