Chapter 1 #2
“Curious.” I crossed my arms, tilted my head. “And I knew about the ensorcelled door, and you were about to get electrocuted.”
“Maybe I was panicking.” His fingers tangled with each other, knuckles going white as he wrung his hands. “Maybe I didn’t notice because I was distracted, alright?”
I looked at the window again, admiring the engraving work. I could never pull that off myself, much less understand the glyphs and inscriptions. But I did respect those who could. I took in a slow breath, wondering if I couldn’t de-escalate matters with Mr. Jitters over here.
“A couple of years back, I was in Kyoto. For work, mostly, something about a sword. But I met this Shinto priest who told me about paper talismans. Riveting stuff. They’re used for protecting against evil, or even sealing evil, or sometimes—”
“Yes, yes.” Mr. Jitters waved his hand, rotating it at the wrist, telling me to get a move on. “They’re called ofuda. Heard of them. This room? That isn’t the same thing at all. Don’t you think I know that already?”
I couldn’t help it. Something twitched in my face as I glared at him. I wondered how much more trouble I could get into if I decked him right in his smug face. Just one good jab. It’d be so satisfying, too. Shame to ruin such a pretty mug.
“But I have to admit,” he continued, “I’m impressed. For someone who forcibly ‘acquires’ artifacts for a living, you know more than you look like you should.”
What did that mean? The hairs bristled all over my body, my anger electric. His lips shut tight after he said that, like he’d only just realized it was the wrong thing to say. Too late by then. Who did this awkward jerk think he was, anyway?
“It’s cute that you’re being all haughty and superior here, like you’re any better than me.” I jabbed a finger down at the floor. “News flash. We’re both in here. You don’t get to crow at me from your pedestal. Because what, I look more like a criminal than you do?”
“That’s not what I meant at all.” He shrank under my gaze, and that only pissed me off even more. If he was going to be a total prick, he should at least have the decency to commit.
“What are you in for, anyway?” My lips curled into a sneer. Something nasty was about to come out, and I wasn’t planning to stop it. “Too many unpaid fees on your overdue books?”
His cheeks blew up, his chin rose. I could almost imagine steam pouring out of his ears. “It wasn’t anything like that at all. A client paid me to authenticate this document.”
“So it was exactly like that.” I folded my arms triumphantly. “Nerd stuff.”
“I said it wasn’t! It was a ritual, something to do with summoning the Hive. And the next thing I know, I have these MEA agents busting the door down, and—”
The sparkle in his eyes, that mingled excitement and fear? I almost felt sorry about bursting his bubble.
“Oh. Of course. The Hive.”
His forehead furrowed. “What’s wrong with the Hive? They’re a legitimate field of study. I’ve dedicated years of my life to the locusts.” He sat up, fiddling with his shirt, preening again. “Topic of my graduate thesis, too.”
“You’re kidding, right? Has there ever been evidence of the Hive on this planet? It’s just a myth, is all. A fairy tale.”
He flung his hands upward. “And look what we know now! The fae are real. They exist.”
“Sure. But sometimes myths are exactly what they are. Fables. Legends. This Hive of yours? It’s none of my business if you’re building your career on something that doesn’t exist. I’m just saying.
You seem like the type to pride yourself on facts.
Scholarly work. Academia.” The insult curled like a plume of fire in my belly.
“You strike me as a piss-poor academic.”
His upper lip shuddered, his eyebrows knitting in the center of his forehead. “And you’re a piss-poor whatever you want to call yourself. You’re no archeologist. What kind of artifact hunter can’t squeak his way through customs? What, first day on the job?”
I rose to my full height, fists tightened. “Listen here, you little shit. Those forms are impossible to maneuver.”
At the sound of a throat clearing, I glanced, startled, at the agent standing in the open door. We’d been so intent on slinging insults at one another that we had somehow missed his arrival. “Looks like I came just in time,” he muttered. “Griffin Gallows? Please follow me. She wants to see you.”
I rolled my shoulders and tilted my neck to either side. “About damn time.”
“Wait.” The man’s feet shuffled against the floor, so shifty and nervous even sitting down. “Who wants to see you?”
“The warden. Your mom. The president. Pick one. I’ll be sure to put in a good word for you.”
I groaned as I stretched, my limbs already relishing the simple promise of freedom and life beyond an eight-foot-square box. I followed the agent out, tipped my imaginary hat at my cellmate as I shot him one last grudging look. In my mind, I was really giving him the finger.
The latch clicked into place behind us. He sprang to his feet, rushing to the door. “But wait,” he said, and I almost grinned at how pitiful he sounded with the wood between us. “Why am I still here?”
“Didn’t I tell you?” I waved him away from the enchanted door. Why was I trying to protect him? He knew already, and he was a prick. “This thing is graven with magic. Back the hell up.”
The man did as I said, his hands held up.
Through the window, I could have sworn I caught a fleeting spark of gratitude in his eyes before it hardened into anger once again.
But it must have been my imagination. There’s no way I could have seen that through the frosted glass.
Fine. Good riddance. That was what I deserved for trying to be nice.
Why did I ever bother?