Chapter 4 Rui #2
He looked like . . . well, he looked like how a Zizi might look. Dark wavy bangs shadowed his gaze, skimming his granite cheekbones. His nose was a dagger, his jaw freshly chiseled,
and his otherwise vulpine face tempered by his eyes. They were mono-lidded and fringed with thick dark lashes, the irises
an impossible blue like the hottest part of a flame. Rui had always thought they were kind eyes, and they were the first thing
she’d noticed about him four years ago.
A bright searing light had exploded when the Revenant touched her that night. The force flung her against a fence, driving
a piece of barbed wire into her leg. She’d passed out. When she finally woke, the Revenant was nowhere to be seen. She was
lying on the street, weak and in pain, the blood from her leg seeping into the cracks on the ground, every muscle in her body
hurting as if she’d been rammed by a truck. Too distraught to move or call for help, she had lain there, staring numbly at
her mother’s cold body.
A pair of eyes appeared. Light in the darkness. A boy her age. Scrawny, dark-haired, wearing checkered pajamas and that off-kilter
grin.
Don’t be afraid. I’m here, he whispered, and took her hand.
Rui thought she was hallucinating from blood loss. But the boy was real, and he saved her.
Present-day Zizi cleared his throat loudly. He was taller now, his frame filled in with sinewy muscle. But he was still the
same boy she had met four years ago: his head tilting at an angle whenever he looked at her, his eyes alit with curiosity
as if he’d stumbled into a wondrous new world.
He brushed his earlobe with his fingers. It was an unsubtle gesture.
Rui cracked a reluctant smile. Instead of his usual silver hoop earrings, he was wearing the ones she’d gotten him as a joke.
They were plastic cartoon ghosts dangling from short silver chains.
The ghosts had pink dots on their cheeks—blushing ghosts.
He’d called them childish, but he wore them from time to time.
Rui sighed to herself. She was wrong. He wasn’t a charming serial killer. More like a Doberman puppy that had grown too large
to be cute. Trained to be a guard dog but one that still loved playing fetch with an old squeaky toy.
Beaming, Zizi spread his arms.
Rui ignored him. She turned and went back into the shophouse, listening to the lazy flapping sound of Zizi’s flip-flops as
he followed her.
“No hug?” he called from behind as they entered the kitchen.
Rui heard his pout. “We don’t hug.”
Zizi swiveled in front of her. “Did I agree to that?”
She elbowed him away. He laughed and leaned against the kitchen island, stretching languidly. She tried not to stare as his
pajama top rode up, exposing a strip of smooth skin above his hip.
“You’re extra grouchy today,” Zizi said. “Did something happen at school?”
“You should’ve left the windows open,” Rui said, looking around. “Where’s Mao? Please don’t tell me you kept her inside with
all that incense smoke.”
“Is that what you’re unhappy about?” Zizi called out in a higher register. “Mah-aaooo.”
There was a tinkling sound.
A dark ball of fur bounded into the kitchen. Mao jumped onto the marble island, purring as she headbutted Zizi’s arm. He scratched
the black cat’s head affectionately. “See? She’s absolutely fine. Does my favorite apprentice feel better now?”
Rui cradled Mao in her arms. “I’m not your apprentice. I’m a Xingshan cadet.”
“It’s tragic that those knuckleheads got to you.” Zizi never failed to remind her of his disappointment that she had joined
the Academy.
Burying her face into Mao’s warm fur, Rui grumbled, “Why do you keep mocking the Academy?”
“You know why,” Zizi retorted, ticking off his fingers as he spoke. “First, the Academy is connected to the Guild, and those
elitist jerks think they’re better than everyone else because the normies depend on them for security. Second, the Guild wants
to control how magic is used, so they force kids to join the Academy, where they get indoctrinated and molded into mindless
little soldiers. Magic should be free; magic should be explored. We need to experiment and forge a new way forward if we want
to get rid of the Revenants for good and—”
“We don’t know if we can ever get rid of the Revenants for good,” Rui interrupted. “They exist because of the Blight, and no one knows what
it is exactly or how to stop it from spreading. The fact is, everyone does depend on Exorcists to keep them safe, and I’m far from a mindless little soldier. The Academy doesn’t force us to do anything.
You would know this if you’d bothered to enroll.”
Their eyes met. The darker pair challenging, the lighter ones amused.
Life for people with high yangqi was full of danger. Rui didn’t have to say it. Zizi knew that. Revenants were drawn to him
the same way they were drawn to her. If he didn’t know how to defend himself, he’d be a sitting duck.
There were two ways to learn magic: the Academy or the underground magic community. The Academy and the Guild promised glory
and respectability—and vengeance—everything Rui craved. She had made her choice, and Zizi had made his a long time ago.
Zizi ticked off another finger. “Lastly, the Academy uniforms are an eyesore.”
“Then why are you hanging out with me?” Rui muttered, setting the cat on the floor.
“You’re useful.”
She flinched.
But she was undeniably useful. After Zizi saved her, Rui discovered he’d lost his parents when he was young and had been adopted by his grandmother, who ran a bakery.
He’d moved out early to run his own business, and soon, Rui found herself beta testing his possibly dangerous and very illegal talismans and magical items. In return, he paid her a pleasant sum of money that covered the living expenses her Academy scholarship did not.
Zizi wasn’t without his uses either. He had access to information sources that Rui lacked. It was purely transactional between
them, or so she told herself in the beginning. Somewhere along the way, it felt like things had changed between them.
“Also,” Zizi was saying, “for reasons yet unknown, I do enjoy your company despite the fact that you’re so grumpy.”
Rui wasn’t very good at accepting compliments, especially ones that came unexpectedly from Zizi. Purely transactional, she reminded herself. He only wanted her around because she was useful, and she was only around because she needed money
and information.
“Where’s the spell you want me to test?” she asked.
Zizi bobbed on his feet. “In due time. But first, coffee.”
Rui slid eagerly onto the barstool by the kitchen island. The Academy’s brew was a standard mild roast, practical and terribly
boring. But it was convenient and free, and most cadets drank it before training to give themselves an extra push. But while
caffeine sharpened the senses of those who could practice magic, their sensitivity to the ingredient meant that an over-caffeinated
cadet or Exorcist was a danger to themselves and their comrades. The crash would hit too hard, and the drop could come at
any time.
Crash or not, Rui never turned down a chance to drink Zizi’s coffee. It was special. Sometimes, it was mellow like a quiet
dusk. Sometimes it was a vibrant dawn, full of promise. He could tease out exacting flavors from the beans and transform them
into a feeling the drinker needed at that very moment. It was, frankly, kind of magical.
She was still feeling the effects of Ash’s test. Fatigue coursed through her body, and her shoulder ached. Maybe she should have stayed in the infirmary as the healer advised, but with the boost from Zizi’s coffee, Rui was sure tonight’s patrol with the other cadets would be a breeze.
Zizi pottered around, scooping coffee beans into a grinder. The rings on his slender fingers sparkled, but Rui’s attention
was drawn to the new silver bracelet next to the other fraying black and red threads he always wore around his wrist. Was
it a present from someone else? Her stomach clenched. She wasn’t quite sure why the new piece of jewelry felt so offensive.
She wrenched her eyes away from him and stared at her phone.
Zizi glanced up. “Anything interesting in the news these days?”
Rui scanned the screen. There was an op-ed about how the Exorcist Guild needed to refocus on the central business district
and the wealthy Tin Hill neighborhood instead of spreading its resources too thinly—and equally—across all areas. Rui dismissed
it. Rich people liked to complain, and she didn’t think they ought to. There was also a report on a recent successful Night
Hunt, which was countered by an article about the rising death toll in the city due to Revenant attacks. Tucked at the bottom
of the page was an update about the long-delayed reconstruction of the Outram subway station.
“A gas pipe in Outram burst last night, right by the old subway station,” she summarized. “The explosion shattered half the
ground-floor windows of the new office tower they’re building. Good thing it happened at night and the workers weren’t there.”
“The tower with the horrific spiral design?” Zizi said, barely paying attention. “That’s not very interesting.”
“I think the tower’s design is cool—it looks like some kind of stairway to heaven. Anyway, the incident’s pending an investigation.
Do you know anything about that?”
Zizi gave her a blank look. “Nope. Why would I?”
“Really?” Rui said, skeptical. “Your friends haven’t been using that subway station for something else?”
As the city grew, new subway lines and stations were built, and the old ones closed. Left unused, the underground magic community took over. The Guild left them alone because of the unspoken promise that they would keep the subterranean network of tunnels clear of Revenants and other undesirables.
“Really,” Zizi said. “Outram Station’s been abandoned for decades, but there was always talk of reconstruction, and with the
new buildings coming up around it, the place is off-limits for us.”