Chapter 4
“This would be so much easier if you would just let me put us on a plane,” Nyx grumbled, dragging her rolling suitcase behind her as Griff, Evra, Morgen, and Kaden followed her to the Station boundary.
She’d made a smooth concrete path from the building to the boundary, specifically to make the task of rolling a suitcase across the length more pleasant, because if she couldn’t avail herself of the perks of being a Station Guardian, when her bonded planet didn’t mind acquiescing, what was the point?
Temerex kept pace alongside them, keeping a wary eye on the rolling suitcase.
Every now and then she would get brave enough to sidle closer and stretch her nose out to sniff it, at which point she would immediately let out a snort that sounded like a growling dragon and dance sideways to put five feet of safety between her and the rolling bag.
“You cannot even explain how the planes fly,” Evra objected.
Not this again. “My inability to explain the physics of flight doesn’t keep planes from flying. They do it every day. Belief is not necessary for them to stay in the air.”
“Then how do they stay in the air?” Evra pressed.
This was an old argument that hadn’t been helped any by Nyx digging out an encyclopedia, opening it to the entry on airplanes, subsection Principles of Flight, and offering it to Evra.
“You know”—Nyx, with the hand not dragging her suitcase, gestured at nothing in particular—“science. He understands it.” She jabbed a finger at Morgen, who had read the encyclopedia entry Evra had ignored, after which he’d said, “Ah, I see.”
“Yes, but he also refuses to get on the plane,” Evra pointed out.
“Remind me why that is again?” Nyx asked Morgen.
He gave her an apologetic grin. “Grasping the underlying mechanics of flight fails to account for the human factor. How much experience does the pilot have? Is the pilot having a bad day? Are they tired? Anxious and inattentive? Were the people in charge of checking the plane in between flights inattentive, leading to the possibility of mechanical failure?”
“You realize we’re going to get into a rental car that could also suffer mechanical defects due to human inattention, and also that it is widely recognized from a statistical standpoint that flying is safer than driving a car?”
“Yes, but I am not in control of the plane,” Morgen said.
“You won’t be in control of the car, either, because none of you know how to drive.
” This was an additional point of annoyance with their refusal to travel by plane—it left all the driving to her.
There were roughly thirty-five hours of drive time from Tempe to New York City, and while Nyx was very much hoping she could portal them all to a closer pocket of the Between to whittle down that time, she didn’t know if she could.
Because there might not be a closer pocket of the Between.
As Nyx understood it, there was a time in the distant past when a portal witch could have portaled to anywhere on Earth.
But as the planet’s civilizations had embraced technology and lost belief in magic, the magic-receptive areas of the planet had shrunk, until now only pockets of the Between remained, scattered about the planet in places where either enough people still believed, or the history of magic was rooted so deeply in the geographical area that the Between could still find purchase.
Nyx felt there was some underlying message there about how little she understood people, because she couldn’t fathom why, of all places, there would be pockets of the Between in Arizona and Montana.
Though she supposed many people did associate the desert with mysticism and power—Sedona certainly did a roaring tourist trade based on the idea—maybe because in such a harsh land, before modern conveniences like air conditioning came along, people needed something to believe in to endure the hardships of the climate day in and day out, year after year.
Regardless, while it was possible to portal in Dead Earth—her efficiency with portal magic in that space dropped to practically nothing, but since she had an unlimited supply of portal magic via Alihana, that wasn’t an issue—driving would be less tiring than line-of-sight portaling across the entire country.
But she was hoping that the pockets of Between on Earth would show up on her portal map like other planets did, allowing her to jump to them without needing line-of-sight.
“Wait,” Morgen said to Kaden as they all came to a stop at the edge of the Station’s grounds. “You don’t know how to drive?”
“No.”
“Why not? You lived in Dead Earth for two years.”
Kaden shrugged.
“He never learned,” Nyx answered for him, “because he gets carsick.”
Evra frowned. “Sick of the car?”
“More like sick in the car. Nausea. Dizziness. Roll down the window for fresh air and all that. You know, like seasickness.”
Morgen frowned at Kaden. “But you don’t get seasick.”
“Cars are different.” Kaden looked like he wanted to shudder, but it was too un-Kaden-like of a reaction to actually manifest.
Temerex, who had taken a place in the circle they’d all formed when they’d reached the boundary, turned her face and lipped at Kaden’s cheek, clearly trying to be comforting. Kaden placed his hand on her muzzle, gently pushing her away. “Thank you. I’m fine.”
The unicorn-dragon blew out a long breath that fluttered her lips. She’d been moody ever since she’d realized Nyx and the others were leaving and she wasn’t going to be allowed to go with them. She sent Nyx an image of everyone leaving the Station and meeting up with Seth.
Nyx swallowed hard and didn’t outwardly react. She couldn’t seem to make Tem understand that Seth was gone. She’d tried, but it wasn’t getting through, and every time Temerex asked for him it tore the scabs on Nyx’s heart right back off.
She sent Tem’s image back to her, minus Seth. Tem’s head dropped, and Nyx felt like a shitty unicorn-dragon parent.
Nyx focused on Griff. “You remember how the phone works?” Since coming to the Station, though Kaliaris had been able to produce electricity to power the television and gaming console Nyx had bought, they hadn’t been able to replicate access to the internet or cell phone towers.
They had, however, finally managed to make a landline phone work through mechanics Nyx did not understand.
“Lift the receiver, enter the sequence of numbers you left.”
She’d popped into Dead Earth yesterday and bought a prepaid phone so she could give the number to Griff. The cell phone didn’t work for calls when she was inside the Station, but if he needed to reach her while she was gone, he could. “And if I don’t answer—”
“Leave a message after the tone,” he finished for her. “The method is not terribly complex,” he added gently.
“Right.” Her hand tightened on the plastic handle of her suitcase. “And you’ll call if you hear anything?”
After Alihana had thoroughly worried her regarding the dire possibilities that might be keeping Jevryn away from Earth, she’d gone to Griff looking for reassurance.
While he hadn’t brushed off the possibility like she’d hoped he might, he had, in his calming, measured voice, said, “Bear in mind that the councilors have a relationship with each other that cannot be replicated. They and they alone bear the knowledge of the connected universe’s origins.
They are bound by the secrets they keep, by the battles they have fought, by the experiences and memories they share.
“They may not like each other—they may even hate each other—but they are more attached to that dislike than most will ever be even to those they love, because they have been forged in the same crucible. Do you understand?”
She’d thought she did. Because even if instead of loving Seth she’d hated him, and he had hated her, there would have been an understanding between them that no one else could ever have. Their histories were so intertwined that no other person could come close to being what they were to the other.
“That is why, though Jevryn may be under scrutiny, it is unlikely he will come to fatal harm. The Council has already lost two of their original number. They will not want to lose another.”
Nyx wanted to believe that. Wanted to believe there was a sentimentality between the councilors that would keep Jevryn safe.
But she wasn’t so sure. Because Kiev had had no such sentimentality, and given what she’d seen of the other two councilors who’d come to the Station with him after the Arkadian breach, she didn’t think sentimental was likely to define any of the councilors overmuch.
“But you will call if anything happens?” she pressed.
“I will call,” he promised. “Please be safe.”
“I will.” She hugged him, careful not to squeeze so tightly she pulled out feathers, then turned and rubbed Temerex’s forehead to either side of the wicked horn protruding from it.
“We’ll be back before you know it,” she promised the mare.
Temerex gave a little huff and bumped Nyx’s shoulder with her muzzle.
Nyx crossed the boundary, the others on her heels, and settled her hand on Alihana’s hilt.
Let us see how much you are Jevryn Sahdi’s daughter, Alihana said, a wisp of portal magic sliding from them to her palm. She still found it odd that they just made it—that one moment there was nothing, and the next there was portal magic.
I wish you and Lethe didn’t insist on saying things like that, she thought back at them. I’m defined by more than being his daughter, you know.
Are you? they asked. You wanted for so long to have a father, and now you quibble at being reminded of it.
Yes, I wanted a father. It may surprise you to learn I was a whole entire person before I found him, since every time you talk to me it’s all Nyx A-Morridahn and Daughter of Jevryn.
Can you blame me? Alihana asked. Now that Kiev is gone, Jevryn is all that remains of my legacy. And you, should you prove worthy of it.