This time, when Snow began to move again, it was to sling one of her knees over his shoulder, the new position allowing him deeper within her, as close as they could be. With each renewed thrust, pleasure wracked through her, heat building quickly in her gut, twisting tighter and tighter until she was certain it would snap. But even on the precipice of orgasm, Jo didn’t want it to end.
Which is why the sudden burst of ecstasy that sang through her was almost bittersweet. Jo threw her head back into the pillows, allowing her climax to take her as completely as her feelings for Snow had. Taken, saved, reunited: regardless of when it had happened, she was his.
The pleasure was so profound that it took Jo a long moment for her to realize that Snow had followed her over the edge, his face buried in her neck as he moaned through his own release. Be it a moment of vulnerability or a genuine need to keep him close, Jo looped her arms around him, holding him against her, feeling the tension in his muscles loosen.
Her leg eased off his shoulder, thighs quivering and toes slowly uncurling. They rested against his hips as he remained in place. For a minute, or an eternity, they simply breathed. She held onto him, arms wrapped around his back, hands clutching his shoulders. Every heaving breath seemed to sing in their ears and neither seemed eager to let the other go.
Something she’d been ignoring was suddenly so, so clear.
Once upon a time, in another life, the two of them had been in love. And now, as they remained entwined, bodies still warm and hearts still easing beneath the soothing hand of their afterglow, she realized they were in this one too.
And if that love was to have a fighting chance, if any of them were, then the Society must end.
Chapter 23
Dark Water
Neither of them said anything for a long time.
It was as if they both knew that the second words crossed one of their lips, the brief reprieve they had taken for themselves by force would be gone. Jo’s hand rested on her still bare chest as she stared up at the ceiling. A calm had soaked into her. She was resting in a cocoon of Snow’s magic and that alone was keeping her from falling apart. It was likely some mystical placebo effect, now knowing they were natural counterbalances. But believing it reassured her and, for now, that was enough.
Snow was the one to finally break the stasis, pulling himself into a seated position. “I should see to the status of the wish,” he whispered.
“I’m sure it’s fine,” Jo mumbled, not wanting to leave the warm safety of his bed. But the spell was already broken, and Snow was the first to stand.
“We only have a week left until. . .” Snow paused on a button of his shirt. “But it won’t come to that.”
“No, it won’t,” Jo whispered at the ceiling.
“Stay as long as you’d like. You’re safe here.” He walked over, pressing his lips against her forehead before departing.
Eventually, Jo peeled herself off the sheets, located her clothes and pulled them on. Dressed, she walked over to the box, engaging in a silent staring contest.
Her magic, the magic of Destruction, was so close. Jo could almost feel a thrumming underneath her skin at the mere thought. But her promise to Snow remained in her mind—she wouldn’t touch it.
Suddenly Snow’s bedroom felt claustrophobic. Her thoughts were swirling into an anxiety-inducing cocktail, so Jo decided to wander before she was forced to drink it. She barely even registered her direction until she was breathing in the scent of fresh water, a cool breeze off the pool raising goosebumps along her arms. The magic that produced the illusion of their atmosphere had already painted the sky the dark indigo of night, the stars shining brightly despite the illumination of the pool.
And it was illuminated, Jo recognized, as though it had been waiting for her. Soft golden light shimmered beneath the gentle ripples of the water and the lanterns lining the pool deck bathed the rest of area in a warm glow. She’d never appreciated how relaxing it all truly was, even if Jo found herself unable to be soothed.
Jo looked at the single deck chair, a book on its seat. Hadn’t she left it on the ground? Or had she taken it back to her room? Jo couldn’t remember. Listlessly, she lifted it, flipping its pages. The words now took on new meaning.
Oblivion. Arrow.
Warring gods and mashed-up pantheons. It read less like a fable and more like a history book with all the knowledge she’d gained. She scanned for anything on magically dismantling things, pillars, funneling magic, societies, anything—and came up empty-handed. Even looking at it through the lens of her recently collected knowledge, she had wrenched all the secrets one book could give.
Jo closed the book, stashed it back under the chair, and rubbed her eyes. Her mind was too over-saturated to try to think about anything specific, let alone read. Shadows lingered in the darkness behind her eyelids and she opened them quickly, the calming sight of the pool chasing the ghosts away.
Spurred on by the sight, Jo stood, eased her hoodie over her head, and removed her pants. It wasn’t exactly a swimsuit, but Jo didn’t have it in her to go to her room and check to see if the mansion had concocted one for her. She sat at the edge of the pool for a second before lowering herself into the water.
A part of her had hoped the water would be shiver-inducing, that she would be able to dunk herself beneath its glass-like surface, block everything out for a moment beneath the bracing chill. But just as everything else in their fake outdoors seemed to be, it was (disappointingly) the perfect temperature—not too hot, not too cold. It soaked into her shirt and caressed her skin as she walked further into the illuminated depths.
The pool sloped, declining beneath her feet until she could see the slight-drop off of the deep end. When the water was beneath her chin, she took to swimming with broad, lazy strokes. And when even that much energy seemed pointless, she leaned back into an easy float and let her eyes roam the vast expanse of faux-night sky.
She hadn’t realized just how much she’d been aching until the cool water removed the tension from her limbs, her back. Her body tilted, legs falling just below the surface, chest swelling upward with every breath. Without even meaning to, her eyes fluttered closed.
It was impossible to completely alleviate the frantic swirling of her mind, but she had to admit that, with the water cradling her and muffling the ambient noise of the outdoors, she could dwell on it all a bit less; there was a sense of comfort in the weightlessness. Her first instinct was to feel guilty about attempting to relax like this, as if, even though she’d been asked to sit out of the rest of this wish, she should still be consumed by it. Should still be as much a victim to her duty as the rest of the team. And maybe, in a way, she was. Having to sit on the sidelines, her only version of help being to literally do nothing. . . In many ways that felt much, much worse.
The small fraction of comfort Jo had found in her idle float vanished at once beneath her torturous thoughts. So, with a sigh as exhausted as it was frustrated, Jo opened her eyes back to the night sky.
Except, in that exact moment, something seemed to move in her periphery.
With a start, Jo wrenched herself upright, blinking water from her eyes as she scanned the pool deck and treaded water, inching herself back towards the shallows. There was nothing out of the ordinary, no one coming to check on her, no one coming to use the pool. She was just as alone as she’d been before.
Though it did little to ease the sudden spike in her heart rate, Jo chalked it up to her tense and frazzled mental state, a figment of her imagination manifested to give her something more tangible to stress-out over. Which wasn’t exactly ideal, but it eased Jo’s pulse a bit and allowed her the chance to catch her breath.
Once she’d given the pool deck one more quick scan, she dipped back beneath the water, dunking her head under completely. She basked momentarily in the complete silence and weightlessness, in the way that, when she opened her eyes, she could see the blurred image of the pool light and nothing more. She wondered briefly if, considerin
g their normal functions as humans were optional now, she might be able to convince her lungs they didn’t need air to breathe. Maybe she could trick her immortal body into allowing her to breathe underwater, stay here in the cool dark stasis until the wish was over. But she didn’t have the courage to try, choosing instead to slick her hair back away from her face and break the surface with a deep inhale.
One that quickly devolved into a sputtering gasp at the unexpected presence of a violet-haired woman-child.
“Indulging in a late-night swim, I see.” Pan stood at the edge of the pool, looking down at Jo with a dangerous glint in her cat-like eyes and a grin upon pink-painted lips. Instinctively, and before she could stop herself, Jo waded a couple of steps back and away, flinching when Pan smirked. It wasn’t unlike that morning months ago, Jo realized. She had known about Fuji before it happened—“Something’s coming,” Pan had said in almost the very same spot. Jo had already believed Snow when he said that Pan chose the wishes, but now it seemed all the more obvious. “Aw, don’t be like that. Is that any way to treat someone who came out here to keep you company?”
Jo wanted to say something to the effect of, “I’d take anyone’s company over yours,” or, “I was much happier alone, thanks,” but her tongue felt heavy in her mouth, preventing her from responding at all. Something about being in Pan’s presence without warning twisted the calming atmosphere of the pool deck. The lights seemed to flicker, their glow deepening in hue and becoming almost too bright. Everything was hyper-vivid, as if under a magnifying glass. Jo saw every frayed end of Pan’s hair, every ripple of the water running over her face in lit bands.
“Mind if I join you?” Pan tilted her head innocently, not even waiting for a reply before pulling haphazardly at the fabric of her bright blue, ruffled dress until it gave way without a single tear to an equally bright blue and ruffled swimsuit underneath. Though Jo hadn’t taken her eyes off the girl, in a blink, she noticed Pan’s hair had gone from loose, violet tendrils to a tight bun, tucked back beneath a matching headband.
Jo followed Pan’s motions as she strolled along the edge of the pool, priding herself on not startling when Pan began to descend the set of stairs at the far end.
“Mm,” Pan hummed, running her fingers along the surface, barely a ripple spreading beneath her sparkly painted fingertips. “Lovely, isn’t it?” She inched forward towards Jo until the water was at her shoulders; Jo wasn’t sure when she’d backed up to the side, but she was now effectively cornered.
When Pan was within reaching distance, she stopped, simply standing a foot in front of Jo and swirling her hand through the water. For a long moment, she didn’t speak, and in response, Jo didn’t breathe.
It took her a long time to realize why, the suffocation so subtle it felt more like anxiety than magic, but once she made the connection, it was impossible to unsee. Pan’s magic swirled about her in much the same way that her hands shifted in mini waves beneath the pool’s surface. It didn’t buzz and spark like Jo’s did; it shone like lightning caught on a high-speed camera and played back in slow motion, volatile and deadly, but oddly beautiful. Despite herself, Jo felt drawn to it with a sick sort of awe.
“You feel it too, don’t you?” Pan was saying. It took Jo far, far too long to realize she’d taken another step forward, closing the distance between them. Jo’s eyes flicked from Pan’s now-motionless hands to her face, a rush of adrenaline filling her chest at the predatory gaze now pointed in her direction. “I know you and Snow had a little bit of a talk. What did he tell you, hm? Care to share?”
And image of Snow flashed across her mind, the two of them embracing, the two of them in bed, the look of fond adoration in his eyes. The sight kept Jo silent and still, a determined frown pulling at her lips even as the adrenaline from before made her feel the need to bolt.
Pan didn’t seem deterred by her silence, merely grinning wider, as if she could read Jo’s thoughts. Maybe she could—they had once been one being, after all. Another spike of terror wracked Jo’s spine, left her breathless with dueling urges of fight or flight she hadn’t felt since the Ranger compound. A fight or flight that only grew as Pan leaned in, raising a hand to gently cup Jo’s face.
Jo’s breath left her in an exhale so deep it felt as if she’d only just emerged from the bottom of the pool. Without meaning to, Jo leaned into that touch. Something in the back of Jo’s mind was struggling, desperate, frantic even, but Jo, terrifyingly, didn’t care. She just wanted to keep chasing whatever this feeling on the very edge of her consciousness was, just for a second.
Pan said something that might have been, “There you are, my darling,” but Jo couldn’t really hear it beneath the pleasant buzzing in her ears. But she could feel, almost to the point of hypersensitivity, the way Pan ran a finger down the curve of her cheek, her jaw. Jo shivered, unsure if the sensation was uncomfortable, unpleasant, or some ungodly mix of the two.
Jo wasn’t sure if Pan had been talking to her the whole time, but when she finally managed to listen, to take in the words, they sank deep into her gut, a seed taking root that would unravel her if it bloomed.
“He thinks you’re his. . . but we all know you’re mine.” Her eyes glowed brighter than the pool lights, flashing red. “And you always will be. Won’t you?”
Jo couldn’t have said what snapped her out of the trance, but all at once, she found herself jerking away from Pan’s touch, heart pounding and fear gripping her chest once more. She tried to breathe, tried to understand what that was, what the hell had just happened. But she came up blank. It was like Pan had been beneath her very skin, flowing like blood in her veins, and Jo had liked it.
When she glanced back to where Pan had just been, she was gone. With a new flash of panic, Jo frantically searched the pool, though her tormentor was already ascending the stairs to the patio, too far away too impossibly quickly. Still a bit paralyzed, mind reeling, Jo found herself hesitating.
It felt like a trap, or at the very least a very bad idea. But sometimes, you had to walk the razor’s edge to get to where you wanted to go—and Jo wanted out. She wanted out of the Society, to see it crumble and free all those in it.
Pan was the only one who would tell her how to do it. Snow wouldn’t; he’d deemed trying to destroy the Society too dangerous, for now. But who knew when, or if, he’d ever think it was safe?
Pan, however. . . she was the one who had built it. She was the one who had trapped Snow. And she was the one who stood to benefit the most by seeing them all—Jo especially—set free.
Before she could back down, Jo hurried out of the pool and ran to catch up, Pan already beyond the deck and heading back inside the mansion. She knew she was trailing a mess of puddles in her wake, knew she was still in nothing but a wet tank and underwear, but she also knew, inexplicably but without a doubt, that if she let Pan vanish this time, there would never be another chance.
So she sprinted, hair clinging in wet tendrils to her forehead and shoulders, bare feet slapping loudly against the mansion floors, all the way through the Four-Way and into the hall leading toward the recreation rooms.
A breath of relief escaped Jo when she saw Pan only just inching past the black door of her room. If it closed. . . If she didn’t make it in time—
She hadn’t realized how desperate she was, for more answers or even just understanding, until she was slapping a hand against the black of wood of Pan’s door before it could shut.
Whether Pan had let her catch up, or whether she’d really made it just in the nick of time, Jo couldn’t be sure—and she didn’t much care. With a breath, she pushed the door open all the way, only to find that, even with the light filtering in from the hallway, the room beyond was completely shrouded in darkness. No. Not just darkness.
Emptiness.
“Well? Why don’t you come inside?”
The voice echoed from deep within, a sing-song lilt that Jo knew all too well. And she knew instantly she shouldn’t obey it, had never known such
truth, but she could also feel herself being tugged inside, a firm grip deep in her core that refused to let go.
She couldn’t have turned away if she tried.
Chapter 24
Pan’s Room
The door shut behind her with a bang so loud its echoes seemed to shake the very foundation of the Society.
Assuming she was even still in the Society. Something about where she now stood felt distinctly different, as though she had been transported to another plane of existence entirely. It was like a superior version of the recreation rooms in concept, but in execution was pure nothingness.
The darkness around her was a tangible thing. Jo never knew there could be so many shades of black until she was standing in that primordial void. It seemed to swirl and change, condensing until it was almost tangible before wafting away again on a breeze that Jo could not feel.
She wanted to ask what it was. Every molecule in her body knew it should be terrified of this raw. . . essence. Yet she was not afraid and, if anything, the lack of fear was what put her on edge most. Jo pressed her mouth into a thin line, not letting a question slip or an emotion find its way onto her face. She would not give Pan the satisfaction of her curiosity.
Eventually, when Pan had no doubt grown bored of her silence, a voice manifested right over her shoulder. “What do you think?”
Jo turned on instinct toward the sound. It was as if Pan had whispered right in her ear, soft and throaty, yet the words reverberated on the infinite corners of a room that did not seem to quite exist. The door to the room should’ve still been at her back, but there was only more darkness. Far, far away, an animal-like sense told her the exit was beyond her reach.
“Come closer.” A teal-nail-polished hand gestured from the darkness, and then an arm. It hovered, seemingly mid-air, the body it was attached to still obscured. Pan beckoned her with a curl of her index finger, a light sweep through the air, and then—