Chapter 12 Rui #2
Yiran threw his jacket across the room. It landed with a satisfying splat. “Make me.”
Zizi raised his pestle in a throwing motion.
Yiran answered by rolling up his sleeves.
Sighing for the innumerable time, Rui lumbered down the stairs to save the fools from themselves.
“Glad you’re getting to know each other on such an intimate level,” she said.
They turned at the sound of her voice.
Zizi laid his pestle down and adjusted his cardigan.
Yiran had the decency to look a little guilty. He hooked his thumbs into his pockets. “Did we wake you, Darcy—uh, Rui? How are you feeling?”
There was a cut on his lip, the abrasion spreading to the side of his mouth. Rui suddenly had an idea of how Zizi got that
bruise on his cheekbone.
“I feel like crap,” she replied. Then, grudgingly, “Thanks for bringing me here last night.”
Yiran rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, well—”
“You didn’t tell Ash or your grandfather about this, did you?” she cut in. She didn’t want him to think she was excessively
grateful or anything. He was just a stranger who was holding on to something of hers.
Yiran shook his head.
He looked so miserable that Rui almost felt sorry for him.
He was probably in trouble with his grandfather.
The Head of the Exorcist Guild wouldn’t be pleased that his grandson had gone to the Night Market.
But that was Yiran’s problem. Not hers. He’d made a choice to be there.
She wasn’t going to be a scapegoat for some rich boy’s mistakes.
She steadied herself against the counter. Her limbs felt heavy, and she longed for a hot drink to warm her body. But she didn’t
want Zizi to worry, and she couldn’t let Yiran think her weak. Not when she needed him to do what she wanted. She straightened.
Rest and sleep could come later.
“We need to talk about what happened last night,” she said.
Everyone in the room knew her statement translated to We should all agree to tell the same story to anyone who asks.
She stared resolutely at Yiran, continuing, “I was in Tangren Quarter because I didn’t see the text from the Academy about
the canceled patrol. On my way back to campus, I ran into a Revenant. You were at the wrong place at the wrong time. I killed
the Revenant and saved you.” She pointed a finger at Zizi. “You will reverse the spell and transfer my spiritual energy back right now. Everything falls back into place. End of story. No
one outside this room needs to know what actually happened.”
“Did the Revenant really have tentacles?” Zizi said.
“Why do you care?”
“Professional curiosity.”
“They grew from its back, and all its spiritual energy was concentrated there. After it was killed, it didn’t vaporize into
smoke. There was a—a kind of body. It became like stone or a statue, and then it crumbled into dust.”
“That’s weird.”
“But it didn’t look human. I don’t think it was a Hybrid.” Rui bit back her disappointment.
There was a snort from Yiran’s direction. “Hybrid? Come on, they don’t exist.”
Rui ignored him. She didn’t owe anyone her past or her pain, especially not Song Yiran.
She leaned close to Zizi, asking in a low voice, “Will you speak to your friends about this?” She couldn’t help feeling like a hypocrite.
She’d asked many favors of him through the years because of his connections, and yet she’d made a choice to stand with the Exorcist Guild.
Zizi nodded. “Why don’t you take a seat? I’ll make you a hot drink.” He must’ve noticed how pale she was, how she was shivering
under the enormous bathrobe.
Rui gave him a small smile and curled up on the old leather armchair in a corner of the parlor by the window, a place in the
shophouse she’d come to think of as her special spot. Sunlight streamed in, and she held her hands up to warm them.
Yiran yawned. “You know, I could use some coffee.”
“There’s a joint two blocks south,” Zizi told him. “Heard their cappuccinos taste like dirty dishwater. Why don’t you give
that a go?”
“I’m already here, and you’re making her a drink.”
“Because it’s her.” Zizi gestured at the front door. “No one’s stopping you from leaving.”
“You’re so immature.”
“You accused me of being a witch,” Zizi said, looking gravely insulted.
“Wizard,” Yiran corrected. “Witch, sorcerer, mage—what’s the difference anyway?”
“Look, clowns,” said Rui, drawing on her shallow well of patience. “I think we have more important things to worry about than
terminology. Zizi, make him a cup.” After a beat, she added, “Please.”
“Maybe he shouldn’t be drinking coffee. We don’t know if it’ll affect him negatively because of what happened.”
“What does coffee have to do with anything? If you don’t want to make me one, I’ll do it myself.” Yiran reached for the coffee
machine, but Zizi smacked his hand away.
“It’s a stimulant, more so for magic practitioners than normies. With all that energy circulating inside you now, you might
go off the rails. The crash will be terrible and dangerous.”
“You’re kidding me,” Yiran said. “My brother drinks coffee all the time.”
“That’s because he’s Ash Song,” said Rui. Yiran seemed to accept that reasoning, which made her wonder what Ash was like as
a sibling. “So, about the other thing, we’re in agreement with my story, yes?”
Yiran shrugged. He was rubbing his fingertips together. Rui stared at the small white scars on them, suddenly remembering
how they’d turned luminescent the night before after the spell hit, like magic was leaking out of his fingers themselves.
Rui wasn’t sure what that meant, and she wondered how he’d gotten those scars.
Zizi’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “There’s one other thing we should discuss. With all that spiritual energy, Mochi’s
spirit core should’ve burned out, but it didn’t. Look at him, he’s perfectly fine.” Zizi seemed a little disappointed.
“Maybe I’m special,” Yiran said, sarcastic. “It was your spell. Shouldn’t you know what went wrong?”
“Magic is complex.”
“Is that wizard speak for Oops, I made a mistake but I’m too pigheaded to admit it?”
Zizi ignored him and walked over to hand a cup of hot chocolate to Rui. She accepted it gratefully, taking a few comforting
sips.
“You should lay low until we find a way to fix this,” she said to Yiran.
“Or I could kill some Revenants.”
“You’re joking.”
“No. I’m not.” There was steel in Yiran’s eyes.
“Why do you want to kill Revenants?”
“Why do you want to kill Revenants?”
“Because—” Rui stopped. She didn’t owe him any explanation. Didn’t owe him anything. The magic belonged to her. And she needed it back. She whipped to Zizi in frustration. “Reverse the spell right now.”
Zizi didn’t say a word. Didn’t even turn to look at her. Instead, he tossed some coffee beans into the grinder and switched it on. The obnoxious clacking and whirring of the machine filled the kitchen.
Yiran paced, clenching and unclenching his fists.
“Is something going on?” Rui asked, sliding to the edge of her seat.
Neither of the boys answered.
Cursing loudly, Zizi switched the machine off with a slap and came to her again, getting down on his knees as if he were proposing
or begging for forgiveness. Rui had an inkling it was the latter.
“I shouldn’t have given you that talisman.”
“We made a fair agreement. I said I would test it for a price.”
“It didn’t have to be you. It’s just that you’re the best, the one I trust. But the spell was dangerous, and I knew it. I shouldn’t have asked.” Zizi
looked disgusted with himself. “I’m sorry.”
They were two simple words. But he’d never apologized to her before, and she didn’t know how to react.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated, looking distraught.
“I’m not mad at you,” she said softly. “Reverse the spell and everything will be fine—”
“Just say it,” Yiran burst out. “Tell her or I will.”
“Tell me what?”
Zizi stood up, the words rushing out of his mouth. “I’m not sure if I can reverse the spell. The impossible happened, and
it seems like the transfer became permanent, or at least that’s what it looks like for now.”
Rui slumped against the chair, not quite understanding the words she just heard. Permanent? How could that be? But she couldn’t deny it. Her spiritual energy felt different, lacking in some way. She’d ignored the
hollow feeling since she’d woken in Zizi’s bed, hoping it was nothing, hoping it was a figment of her imagination.
But it wasn’t.
She choked back a sudden sob. How could she live without magic?
It gave her a sense of purpose and duty, knowing she could have her revenge, knowing she could do more with her life.
She’d lost something four years ago and found something else.
Magic had filled the void left by her mother.
She was suddenly frightened, not because she felt empty, but because she wondered if the emptiness had been there all along, and magic had been a flimsy bandage she’d wrapped over a wound that was still festering.
“I can’t do anything now,” Zizi said, “but it doesn’t mean I can’t fix this eventually. It’s just too dangerous to attempt
anything until you heal completely. Even if I had a way to reverse the spell, doing it now could kill you.” He glanced at
Yiran. “He looks fine, but his core can’t handle this much spiritual energy for long. It could burn out at some point.”
Rui didn’t think she could feel any worse. “Are you . . . are you saying that I can’t get my magic back unless my core recovers
fully, but if we don’t get my magic out of Yiran as soon as possible, he might die?”
Yiran was lying on the floor now, shielding his face as if he were hiding from the world.
“Did you know this already?” she asked him.
Yiran drew a shaky breath. “Yes.”
Four years.
Death had come calling on her doorstep again, right on schedule. This time, she was its instrument. She had cast the spell, flicked the switch on Yiran’s life. And she might lose her magic forever.
Rui shivered. It felt like the cold would never leave her. No one said a word. The seconds stretched, silent and unbearable.
She lifted her hand, cautious, not quite sure of what she wanted to do. Lightly, she tugged at the red string around Zizi’s
wrist, feeling the tension in the frayed thread. She slipped her hand into his, the back of hers nestling against his palm.
His pale blue eyes were questioning. She’d never reached out to him like this before.
Help me, she thought. She felt his fingers curling over hers, warming her chilled skin.
“There’s another problem,” Zizi said, somewhat reluctantly. “Mochi has a strong spiritual presence now, which means he’ll
be more vulnerable to Revenant attacks. He must learn how to manage it.”
Zizi was right. Yiran had to train, he had to cultivate his spirit core, learn how to use magic. It was his best chance at survival. But he couldn’t go to the Academy, not while she was there.
“He could come here,” she said to Zizi. “You could teach him the basics to stabilize his core.”
Zizi dropped her hand. “I can’t get tangled up in Song family business. Think about it, he’s from an Exorcist family—they’ll
want him at Xingshan.”
She knew he was right, but she couldn’t help feeling betrayed. How about me? she wanted to ask. She had lost her means for vengeance; she had lost her purpose. Couldn’t Zizi help her out with this one
small thing? She glared at him, but deep down, she knew she was being selfish. She was asking him to risk himself for her.
“Don’t you think I should be the one deciding this?” Yiran groaned from the floor. “Stop talking about me as if I’m not here.”
Before anyone could reply, there was a loud knock on the front door.
The three of them jumped.
Yiran’s eyes flicked between Zizi and Rui. “Should we get that?”
Zizi shook his head. “Probably someone selling something. They always leave sooner or later.”
“Open up!” The visitor was banging on the door now.
Yiran stood up. “That sounds like—”
“Open up!” repeated the voice from outside. “This is an official visit from the Exorcist Guild. Unlock your door.”
Zizi straightened his pajama top, a grim look on his face. “Seems like we have an unwelcome guest.”