Chapter 21
HAVENPORT, DELORNIA
Havenport takes form around us, the marina fog so thick that the shop-lined streets are indistinguishable.
Unlike my circle in Monument Park, Valen’s didn’t have a twin to go to.
It’s a lot more complicated and needs a lot more energy to accomplish, and even the most skilled weavers have inconsistent results.
I suck in a sharp breath and try to look around, but my head spins from the effort. All I can make out in the darkness are the electrical-powered streetlamps that offer the most miniscule of lighting within the deep, oceanic fog.
I turn to my two companions. Valen’s hand is still on Lucas’ neck, their foreheads touching. Valen’s chest is heaving and brow glistening. A sickly sheen turns his pale skin sallow. Still, his lips quirk in a smirk, “Saved your life.”
Valen’s slightly glowing blue eyes flick down, his thumb sliding over the column of Lucas’ throat to touch the edge of his tattoo. Lucas’ inhale is sharp and his lips part, but he turns away quickly. “It’s the least you could do after betraying us. What the actual fuck, Valen?”
Valen steps back, but his eyes are trained on Lucas.
He notices me watching from behind Lucas’ shoulder and quickly drops his gaze.
“I had no intention of betraying you. Trust me when I say things didn’t go as planned for me either.
All I could do was ensure that I was the one pinning you to the door. ”
Exhaustion, both magical and mental, weighs too heavily for me to handle this information. I ask the only question I care about, “Did you know about Viola?”
Valen’s gaze meets mine and his voice cracks in a pain-filled whisper, “No.”
I nod and let my head weigh heavily against Lucas’ shoulder. Lucas peers down at me, his brow tight, then turns on his heel to better take in our surroundings. “Where are we?”
“I’m… not sure.” Valen’s breathless answer is worrisome. He must really be drained after the fight.
Lucas’ throat works and he whips around to try to figure out our location in the large city. “Okay, let’s start with where you intended to take us and work backwards from there.”
Valen rakes his hand through his disheveled hair and steps from the circle to lean heavily against the streetlamp’s post, ignoring the cold sting. “Peripeteia, obviously.”
Lucas nods, squinting at the nearest street sign. “Well, at least you got the right district. But we’re far—”
Lucas pauses, his eyes fixed ahead. Valen straightens from his lean and Lucas nods towards the nearest alleyway.
For someone so large, Lucas moves with a silent grace that makes him a master of his trade.
Valen follows until Lucas ducks behind a grouping of trash bins.
Valen sneers at the mysterious, pungent stains on the brick, but Lucas grabs him by the collar and practically slams him against the grimy wall, pinning him there with a warning glare to stay silent.
Shuffling along the streets has my heart clenching. My fingers twitch, but I have no strength. I am a rag doll with a pounding heart. Lucas carefully shifts me over to Valen’s embrace and pulls his knife from his boot.
Hushed voices murmur. My ears strain. They’re inspecting Valen’s circle, which left a singed imprint upon the sidewalk.
“Summon the Amur. Weavers are here.” That I hear clear as day. Cold sweat coats me and Valen’s arms tighten on me.
Lucas keeps perfectly still, his hand coating his blade’s handle with blood that oozes out from under his rings. We are too exposed, too trackable. If not by magic, then by the magicians who can transform into beasts. Blood and the acrid scent of magic waft from us.
I glance up at Valen. His name could potentially protect him, or it could turn him into a hostage for ransom.
Best-case scenario, they’d turn him into the Magistrate for illegal crossing into the city.
Just like humans need permits to board the train to the Astrum Forest, weavers need to declare intention at the train gates to enter the city.
Using a circle to bypass that checkpoint is grounds for arrest. Only Monument Park’s platform is permitted as the sanctioned neutral zone.
“We need to get off the streets,” Lucas whispers.
I nod and he tucks his blade away. He reclaims my limp body and quickly weaves his way through the alleys, Valen following close behind. I lick my lips and manage a whisper, “We need to get to Peripetia.”
Lucas readjusts my deadweight in his arms and answers, “We’re closer to Nora’s place. We should head there instead.”
Valen’s brows pinch. “Who’s Nora?”
I answer him. “She’s a magician friend of ours who runs Estrella Apothecary. But we can’t waste time. We need to get to the bookshop.”
Lucas heaves a sigh. “I want to get home too, but look at us. You can’t walk. V can barely keep up. My fingers are bleeding, not to mention your arms. The shop is too far. We’ll never make it.”
I’m loath to admit it, but he has a point.
Lucas shifts his hold again to ease up on the razor slices from when I attacked Vincentius.
Most have crusted over, but a few have cracked open to leak.
Then there’s my curse scar from the museum that tugs painfully.
And the bone-deep agony from heavy dark magic use.
A chill clings to me that even Lucas’ warmth can’t reach. There are no flashes of hot and cold, my usual hint that my Dual Threads are unbalanced. There’s just the icy cold of the Entropy Flame.
My clammy hands fist harder in Lucas’ shirt. I need to get to my grimoire fast.
But even if I get back to the bookshop, I can’t get down to the vault. We still need to force the spider back into submission, and Jinx’s assistance earlier has my magic drained dry. I can’t stand, let alone battle a powerful grimoire.
Lucas continues, “We are out of options. Nora will help us. I know it.” I can practically feel the intensity of his stare. “And you know it.”
If we’re attacked, I’d be as useful as a sack of sand.
My absolute last resort is to physically summon Jinx through our bond, but it would leave my chest ripped open when her body reformed.
We’ve never done it before, but she has with Geralt Rosemont.
She slaughtered the horde of magicians that razed the Rosemont estate.
Geralt died from summoning her, but legend has it that he grinned in death, knowing that Jinx avenged him.
My teeth grind and I keep an annoyed groan from escaping. Going to Nora’s makes the most strategic sense, but to do so instead of sprinting home sets me in a near feral panic.
“There’s something else.” Valen’s low voice soothes some of the pressure building within me, but his words have bile surging. “The Archweaver grew impatient when the letter didn’t lure you immediately into his trap, so he enlisted Dimitar’s assistance.”
My eyes flare. “The Amur?”
Lucas grinds to a halt and turns to face Valen, “What about that asshole?”
Exhaustion weighs heavily on Valen again, his shoulders slumping as he shifts his weight. “I don’t know all the details, but the Archweaver offered a great reward if the Amur could break through your wards. The Archweaver is looking for something, perhaps an object you anchored your curse to.”
My fingers flex to catch the edge of Lucas’ jacket, pulling it into a tight fist. Lucas squeezes me. “We need to get off the streets. Now.”
I’m breathless. “But Jinx—”
“Jinx can take care of herself. We are fucked if we don’t get some help.”
Coolness whispers over my hand on Lucas’ chest. Valen’s long fingers wrap around mine, his voice a low murmur. “I hate to agree with the magician, but he’s right.” His thumb slides over my knuckles. “If this Nora can offer shelter while we make a plan, then I vote we accept it.”
I swallow thickly, my eyes burning. I squeeze his hand. “Okay. Let’s do it.”
Like me, Nora lives in an apartment above her store. Unlike me, Nora has a backdoor leading to her private residence. It’s perfect for sneaking up to from the dark back alley.
Lucas carefully ascends the rickety stairs with Valen following. Each step hums with hidden runes that detect malicious intentions. Some are as old as the building, others I assisted in hand-carving.
The door to the modest apartment cracks open and a dark brown eye peeks out. Lucas shifts my weight. “Sorry for waking you, Nors.”
“Lucas?” Nora gasps, throwing her door open wide.
I can’t help a weak smile. My friend is in a lavish silk nightgown with a matching robe, the soft dusty rose color complimenting the sepia tone of her complexion perfectly.
Her thick, curly hair is wrapped up in a matching silk scarf.
A few stray curls escape from the bottom to dance along her neck.
I try to make a roguish comment but can’t muster the strength to come up with something clever. I wave weakly instead. “Hi, lovely.”
Nora jumps, her head swiveling in a double-take. Her jaw drops and I giggle weakly, “Surprise.”
Her brows bunch, “Aster? What did you do to your hair? And eyes? And—”
Lucas grimaces. “It’s a long story. Can we come in?”
“Yes, yes. Please.” She wraps her robe tightly around herself, her wand balanced between two fingers as she does. “Come in.”
Lucas steps through the door our friend holds open for us. Valen swirls his hand in an arc, soft words of an incantation flowing from him and he erases our tracks. The smallest tremble in his fingers give away how draining it is, but his spine is rod-straight and face in his usual cool mask.
I let out a long breath once he steps through and Nora shuts and locks her door behind him.
Not much has changed since the last time I was here.
A decorative couch with a coffee table and two armchairs take up the space with a large fireplace across from it.
A portrait of Nora’s grandfather sits prominently above it.
His severe stare glares at us. The wand that is now tucked in Nora’s silk hair wrap is resting in his lap.