Chapter XVII. Domenic #2
Hanna threw up her hands and stalked across the ground floor. “There it goes!”
Domenic careened after her, tripping repeatedly. “There what goes?”
“The last shred of my sanity! I cannot believe you. You’re so … so…”
Domenic seized her shoulder and twisted her around. “So what?”
Hanna glared up at him. “Caldwell is supposed to be on house arrest, not in your bedroom—”
“It’s not like that! Listen. I—I know how it looks. And I’m sorry I sprang this on you. I’m sorry you had to go searching for me, that we stole your car. But—”
“You what—”
“But ever since I saw Ellery in the grove, I’d had this gut feeling that she’s part of the prophecy. That she’s Chosen, too. And now we can prove—”
“Oh, that’s why you’ve done this? A gut feeling? And you’re sure it’s got nothing to do with the fact that this is the same girl you’ve been in love with since before your balls dropped?”
Domenic recoiled as if she’d struck him. Then he cast a panicked glance behind him, but Ellery hadn’t followed.
When he whipped back to Hanna, he hissed, “Are you serious? What the hell do you take me for? Over the past twenty-four hours, I’ve thrown myself into the eye of a winterscurge.
I watched a kid burn right in front of me.
I’ve listened to Sharpe and every reporter in the country debate how big of a piece of shit I am.
And you think that’s what’s on my mind right now? Getting laid?”
Hanna jutted up her chin. Domenic hated that look, like she was so sure she saw straight through him. Like he was so predictable.
“Hanna, I’m just asking you to trust me. Do you trust me?”
Hanna hesitated. Her mouth twitched like she was chewing on her answer, as if it was wadded between her molars like a piece of bubble gum.
Then a knock rapped on the back door.
Domenic brushed past her to open it, revealing Peak shifting side to side on the patio. Despite the sub-freezing temperatures, he wore his usual shorts. “Dom, there you are. You all right? What’s this about?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he answered, trying not to sound annoyed. What had they assumed, that he’d tried to flee the country the moment he was left unsupervised? “I just wanted to talk.”
“Right. Of course, of course.” Peak clapped his shoulder as he entered, but Domenic got the sense Peak had barely caught his words.
Peak scanned the kitchen as he stepped out of his shoes.
“Iseul redecorated a bit, it looks like. Don’t remember those porcelain plates on the wall. And the breakfast nook … That new?”
Domenic had entirely forgotten that Peak had lived in this house before he did.
“Oh, uh, I guess?” He glanced at Hanna, who’d jumped atop the counter, her boots swinging idly, her own mug of coffee already fully vertical as she downed it.
Muffled voices sounded from outside—the rest of the Council had arrived.
But rather than greet them, Domenic told Peak: “Gather everyone in the parlor.” Then he dashed back upstairs to find Ellery hovering, pale, in the hallway.
“Are they all here?” Ellery asked Domenic.
“They sure are.” Domenic shoved his hand in his pocket and fiddled with the worn dandelion stems, the same ones that had sat there since the vigil. His emotions all simmered dangerously close to the surface. He regretted the coffee. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m braced for a complete shitshow,” she deadpanned.
“Even if this meeting isn’t pretty, all that matters is that they believe us. About the shared prophecy. About the Chosen Two.”
Ellery nodded, then she laughed lightly. “Is it bad I’d rather face Decibel again than Sharpe?”
She was six, maybe eight inches from him, so close that his skin prickled from the cold of her magic, that his mind was already replaying the sensation of his fingers just barely brushing her own, already considering how it might feel to touch her again, to trace lazy circles around her palm, to press his lips against the inside of her wrist.
But Hanna’s accusation still stung, a thorn he couldn’t pry loose. If they were going to convince the Council to take them seriously, he needed to act like a real Chosen One. Noble. And the way he was thinking about Ellery Caldwell was anything but.
Domenic forced a chuckle in return. “Y-yeah. You and me both.”
Side by side, they descended the stairs and braved the parlor.
Clearly, Hanna hadn’t informed the others about Ellery’s presence, because as soon as they sighted her, chaos broke out across the room.
Peak and Iseul’s conversation abruptly died as Peak leapt in front of her and yanked Targath from one of the pockets of his cargo shorts.
Glynn fumbled with the wine bottle he held, splashing pinot across the coffee table.
And Sharpe, like a crack of thunder, bellowed, “ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND? WHAT IS SHE—?”
“Thank you for coming,” Domenic said smoothly. “We hoped a change of scenery might—”
“BOTH THAT GIRL AND THAT WAND ARE SUPPOSED TO BE UNDER OBSERVATION. SO HOW IS IT THAT—”
“I understand why my being here with Iskarius is a lot to take in,” said Ellery, gesturing at the sheath at her side. “But I promise that if you listen to us, it will all make sense.”
Domenic gazed at her admiringly, the strong stance of her posture, the determined set of her jaw. For all the fear he knew drifted beneath her surface, he couldn’t glimpse a single shard of it now.
Indeed, Sharpe’s shouts diminished to seething, and the other Councilors gazed at each other uncertainly. Hanna lurked in the corner, biting her cuticles.
“And why should we listen to you?” Sharpe demanded. “I’m lucky to still have all my fingers after your display last night. You and that wand are clearly dangerous. And yet, here you are, flaunting the crimes you’ve committed.”
“I’m truly sorry that I hurt you, and Councilors Seong and Mayes.” Ellery nodded at Iseul and Hanna. “But I swear Iskarius is now fully under my control.”
“I can vouch for her,” Domenic jumped in fiercely.
Sharpe scoffed. “Yes, because your opinion is so infallible.”
“I pulled off a win in Oldermere, didn’t I? Just give us a chance. Hear us out. And afterward, we’ll answer every question you’ve got.”
Sharpe grinded his teeth. Then he lowered onto one of the sofas and gave a show of making himself comfortable: enchanting away the spilled wine, seizing a glass, and leaning far back into the striped upholstery, an ankle crossed over his knee. As if to say, By all means, make fools of yourselves.
Domenic and Ellery claimed the opposite sofa. Noticing Hanna’s scrutiny, Domenic left an exaggerated amount of space between them.
Domenic cleared his throat. He’d always dreaded class presentations. “When I heard the prophecy piece in Oldermere, I realized something…”
He recounted the full story, from how he’d connected their parts of the prophecy to their battle in the Barren. As he described killing Decibel, Ellery withdrew the strange glowing stone from her skirt pocket and set it upon Iseul’s never-opened architecture coffee table book.
“You all see how great this is, right?” Domenic asked. “If prophecies have six to eight pieces in total, then we’ve already found three. We could already be halfway done beating this thing. And if not, then close to it!”
Except once he finished, rather than congratulate the two of them, Sharpe asked Peak, “Well? You ever heard of this Dire Three bullshit?”
“Yeah, I have.” Peak’s forehead creased.
“They’re rookie superstitions. Claims of winterghasts of true intelligence.
They’re apparently large—ridiculously large, mind you.
I’ve heard one described as tall as a skyscraper.
And they’ve all got some combo of ghast and human features.
Standing upright, but with some other horror—like the spikes you mentioned.
But there’s never been an official report. They’re just rumors, that’s all.”
“So you don’t believe us,” Domenic said flatly.
Peak blinked. “What? ’Course I believe you. The way you took down that scurge? Valmordion knew what it was doing, Choosing you. I never doubted it.”
Domenic fidgeted, somehow both flattered and embarrassed. Peak’s unerring optimism could give a man sunburn.
Then Peak strode toward the stone. “And this thing … It shines winterghast blue, all right. Is it safe to touch?” When Domenic nodded, Peak scooped it up.
The cerulean light glinted off his stubble, illuminating a pale scar across his cheek.
“I’ve slain my fair share of ghasts, but I’ve never seen anything like this before. Have you, Hanna?”
Hanna didn’t answer. Her attention was fixed enigmatically upward, as if tracing the flourishes of the crown molding. At her side, she squeezed Syarthis.
“Mayes?” Sharpe barked.
Hanna jolted. “Oh, um, no. Syarthis doesn’t recognize it.”
Peak passed the stone to Iseul. “And what do you make of it?”
Iseul slid on her tortoiseshell reading glasses and inspected it. Then she pointed Calynia. Gold flooded through the wand’s perforations, casting shapes across the ceiling and carpet.
“It’s not an enchanted object,” she said. “But it certainly contains magic. It feels … Well, for lack of a better descriptor, cold.”
Peak stuffed his hands in his pockets, pondering.
“I’ll admit, Caldwell, I’m no fan of that wand of yours.
But this prophecy is about balance—and it’s the last of them, at that.
And hearing you say you’ve fulfilled each other’s pieces, I kept thinking about that ghast you fought in Mercester Square.
The city watch still can’t come up with an explanation for it.
And the fact that it was you two … I’m no believer in coincidence. I—”
“Yes, yes, all right. Spare us one of your sermons,” Sharpe snapped, rising to his feet. “We’ve already wasted an entire day debating why Iskarius exists while these two deemed us, the most important magicians in the country, unworthy of knowing matters of national security.”
“Only because you treated us like.…” Domenic struggled to avoid a curse.