Chapter 13 #2
He picked up the dark metal device, turning it in his hands.
“This tracked the Drakon navigators. Every Ophis that traveled between the worlds left a signature behind, and this device recorded it, allowing us to map out portal routes. The old highways between the systems.” He held it out to her. “It responds to Ophis magic.”
The moment her fingers closed around it, the device lit up. Three-dimensional lines bloomed from its surface, weaving and intersecting in the air above it, forming a map. Stars. Constellations. Pathways between them, glowing silver-white.
I’d seen star charts before. I’d studied them in the archives for years. But I’d never seen one that moved, that breathed, that adjusted itself in real time to the person holding it. Jupiter’s eyes had gone wide.
“See? It knows you.”
I woke from a dead sleep, wide fucking awake, and instantly knew something was wrong. No… Not wrong. Not exactly. Just…off. I lay there in the dark, hands folded behind my head, staring at the ceiling as the bond thrummed faintly. A fizzy, giddy kind of energy, welled up inside of me.
I sat up, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, and scrubbed my hands over my face. The room was cold, and fog pressed against the glass. I got up and padded to the window anyway, looking out. Nothing but gray, shifting mist.
The giddy feeling hit me again, and this time, I knew exactly where it was coming from. I focused, following the thread down the bond. She glowed silver-bright, impossible to miss. So I sent a message down the bond.
‘Jupiter. You alright?’
She didn’t respond. So I sent it again, still feeling that giddiness sneaking through. Then finally, after asking a third time, her mental voice echoed in my head.
‘Meet me in the grove. And come quietly, please.’
I was too tired to argue. Besides, the giddy energy was contagious, the longer I lingered in it.
I got dressed, fast in black trousers, boots, and a hoodie tugged over my t-shirt.
I didn’t bother with the glasses as I only really used them for reading.
Out in the corridor, the rest of the tower was dead quiet, the only sound the old building settling around itself.
Noodle was nowhere to be seen, probably off causing trouble.
I slipped out the side door and into the fog. The world outside was silent, muffled by mist thick as soup. The grove was easy to find. Even with the moon obliterated by fog. I rounded the old boundary wall, ducked under a sagging branch, and—
Stopped dead.
Crouched behind a gnarled oak, hair a mess of black silk in a ponytail that had clearly lost the will to live hours ago, and wearing …pajamas with Edward Cullen’s face on the ass. She was clutching a bag of marshmallows.
I just stood there, arms crossed, and stared at her for a full ten seconds of bewildered silence. The bond made her giddiness spike, like she was daring me to say something. I almost lost it. But I held steady. Barely.
“What in the bloody hell are you doing?”
She whipped around so fast she nearly lost her marshmallows, eyes wide and finger to her lips. “Shh!”
I stared. She beckoned me closer, waving frantically.
“Are you… hiding from something?”
“Lucas, if you don’t shut up and get over here, you’re going to scare it off.”
Scare what off? I crouched beside her, careful to keep my boots out of the mud, hoodie pulled low.
She was vibrating with excitement, magic fizzing off her skin in little shivers.
Her hair was a wild, tangled mess, and she smelled faintly of coffee and that pear shampoo that made my mouth water.
I looked at the bag in her hand, then at her face.
She pointed. I followed her finger, but there was nothing. Just roots and moss and a patch of mushrooms growing at the base of the trunk.
She leaned in, voice a whisper. “I’m catching a pixie.”
I blinked. “You’re… what?”
She flashed me a wicked grin. “Catching a pixie. I’ve been baiting this bastard for two weeks, and tonight, it’s taking it. Apparently, it loves marshmallows.”
I tried, really tried, to keep a straight face. “Love, you realize that’s not how pixies work.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re a magical warrior from another planet, Lucas. You’re supposed to believe in the impossible.”
“I—” I couldn’t even argue.
We waited. The grove was silent except for the distant hum of insects and the drip of moisture off the leaves.
She crouched there, perfect and ridiculous, pajamas wrinkled, the Edward Cullen face, which was also on the breast of the matching pajama top glaring at me.
After a minute, she shifted, holding out a marshmallow on her palm, and whispered, “Come on, you little shit.”
Nothing happened.
I cleared my throat. “You realize, in most cultures, this is considered insanity.”
“Shut up, you freakin buzzkill.”
We waited. The cold fog drifted around our ankles, catching against the moss. I was starting to think she’d actually lost it, that maybe the pressure of holding a nine-man shield had finally snapped her last brain cell, when—
A flicker. At the edge of my vision, barely visible, something darted between two roots with a sound like a snapped rubber band. I jerked back. Jupiter grinned wider.
“There,” she hissed. “You see it?”
Holy shit.
It poked its head up. A tiny goblin, maybe six inches tall, skin the color of old pennies, ears like bat-wings, and eyes so bright blue they glowed.
It had wings, iridescent as dragonfly glass, and a mouth full of tiny sharp teeth.
It hovered just above the moss, eyeing the marshmallow like it was about to pull a knife and mug us for the sugary treat.
It darted forward, snatched the marshmallow, and stuffed the whole thing in its face. My mouth dropped open. For a split second, I didn’t know what to say. Jupiter looked smug enough to power a small city.
“Unbelievable,” I muttered. “You actually did it.”
She held out another marshmallow, and the pixie reappeared, this time landing right on her palm. It perched there, fingers digging into her skin, wings buzzing furiously. It glared at me, hissed, then grabbed the second marshmallow and vanished behind the root.
“You should document this,” I mused, still staring after the pixie. “Do you understand how elusive they are?”
She waggled her fingers at her phone, which I hadn’t seen perched up on a nearby rock. “Oh, I’m getting everything.”
I shook my head, grinning. “Pixies don’t interact with us, let alone let you hand-feed them. You’re setting a dangerous precedent. Pretty soon they’ll be knocking on our doors and asking for handouts.”
She shrugged, looking more pleased than I’d ever seen her. “You think they’ll domesticate themselves?”
I did. I really did.
We crouched there in silence, watching her new goblin friend demolish a third marshmallow. The fog made everything hazy, the trees looming overhead made the moonlight flicker. A low chuckle rolled down from above. Both of us looked up at the same time.
“Thought it might work eventually,” Jamie’s voice called from up in the tree. “Didn’t think it’d happen tonight, though.”
He was perched on a branch, maybe ten feet up, black hair messy, combat boots dangling. Noodle was draped around his neck, tongue flicking in and out, and on a branch beside him, Gretchen blinked down at us, head cocking with intelligence.
Jupiter chuckled. “Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you, Jamie’s here too. He’s babysitting.”
Jamie choked on a laugh as Noodle hissed and said through the bond, “Not baby. Noodle.”
Jupiter rolled her eyes, extending a hand up as Noodle slithered down the tree trunk and onto her arm.
The pixie stuck around long enough to demolish the rest of the bag, and by the time we headed back, the fog had thickened so much I could barely see my own boots.
Jamie kept pace with us, Gretchen flying overhead in lazy circles, Noodle draped across Jupiter’s shoulders.
The common room was dark when we pushed through the door, the fire banked low, the rest of the tower quiet.
Jamie paused at the foot of the stairs, one hand on the banister, and glanced at Jupiter.
“Night,” he said. Gretchen landed on his shoulder and tucked her beak against his jaw. He climbed without another word, boots thudding on the old stone, and disappeared around the first landing.
Jupiter dropped onto the sofa with a groan, Noodle slithering off her shoulders and onto the armrest. She was still buzzing. I crossed to the kitchenette, filled the kettle, and set it on the hob. The familiar ritual calmed something in me. Tea. Something to do with my hands.
I poured the tea, added a splash of milk to hers the way I’d noticed she liked it, and carried both mugs over.
She took hers without looking up, already scrolling through her phone, thumb flying.
I sat beside her on the sofa, leaving a careful distance between us, and took a sip. The tea was too hot. I didn’t care.
“Look,” she said, turning the screen toward me. “Look at this little bastard. He was right there. Right on my hand.”
I leaned in. The photo was a smear of green and brown and a bright blue blur that might have been an eye or might have been a lens flare. I scrolled to the next one. Same thing. A blur of motion, a streak of iridescent wings, nothing recognizable.
“Jupiter…”
The next one was worse. Just a tree root and what looked like a marshmallow-shaped ghost. I couldn’t help it and I laughed.
“It’s not funny.”
“It’s a little funny, love.”
She growled and kept scrolling, faster now, frustration building. “There has to be one. There has to be one good one. I had the flash on and everything.”
“The pixie’s magic interferes with electronics.” I set my mug on the side table. “You’d have been better off with a sketchpad.”
She threw her head back against the cushions and groaned. “I’m going to have to go back tomorrow. I need proof.”