Chapter Thirteen Ren #2
“Fine, then. Can I have my fox back?” It takes a lot of effort to relax my hand enough to open it and hold it out. It’s my left one, the one with the imprint. It’s like that hand belongs to the relic.
“Did I not tell you?” Akira responds. “A gift of devotion to a god most powerful, honorable, and worthy cannot be returned once presented.”
“Yeah, but you don’t need it,” I say.
“I couldn’t give it to you even if I wished to.
” To demonstrate, Akira opens his fingers, where the fox sits on his palm.
I try to take it. A sharp jolt zings through my hand, but I don’t pull it back.
I keep reaching for the pendant. The jolt comes repeatedly until my hand spasms and burns.
Fingers appear out of nowhere and gently pull my hand away.
Violet. I don’t look at her. I drop my hand to my side, where it stings and aches.
“It’s your own fault, mortal. Did you take the relic to the holy festivals?
Did you have it purified every third full moon?
Did you bathe it in water, sprinkle it with salt, and run it quickly through a flame?
A divine gift requires attendance. Otherwise, age sets in.
Rust. Patina. Petrification. You’ve neglected it.
Its magic is but a whisper inside it, so soft even I cannot hear it. ”
“I don’t think Ren knew he was supposed to do all that,” Violet says.
Without thinking, I turn desperately to her.
Her gaze meets mine, open and full, and she gives me a slight, reassuring nod.
What am I doing? I snap my eyes to the ground.
Slowly, she turns to Akira. “I…I have a relic, too. My Otōsan was arrested and has been in prison. Do you think you can use it to bring him to us and to make sure Ren’s sister and her baby are all right? ”
I’m shocked she’s included my family in her petition.
Didn’t think she’d care enough to after she dismissed me as her personal laundry service.
Slowly, she removes the deer from her pocket and holds it out to Akira.
He surges forward like a rabid dog and hovers over the deer.
He angles his head back and forth and sniffs the air.
Then he recedes back with a furious screech.
“You detestable mortals!” he cries. Oda, who has been hopefully observing, throws himself against the mirror frame in matching devastation. “You tease and tantalize me with worthless hope. I should summon thunderbolts to smite you both for torturing me so.”
“This is my father’s relic, and he took very good care of it.” Violet’s voice rises. “I’m certain it’s full of magic. I’ve felt it myself. I know it’s real.”
“It is full of well-tended magic,” Akira says. He paces up and down. “But the owner is not present. I cannot make use of the magic unless your father gives it to me himself.”
“There must be some other way for you to help us,” Violet says, and there’s a panic I’ve never heard before her in voice.
“Free me,” Akira says. It sounds half like a command and half like an idea that has just struck him. “Free me from this place. My powers will be restored, and I could give you a divine favor in return.”
“All right…” Violet falters. “Do you have any idea how we might do that?”
“If I did, I would’ve already told you.” Suppressed rage mounts in Akira’s voice. “I’ve never been bound to a place before.”
Something gnaws at my mind, chewing it to tatters. Without realizing it, I lift a hand to my head and press it against my forehead. A ragged thought slowly develops in my mind.
“Hey.” I take a step forward with so much force that Violet’s eyes widen. “What you just said earlier—what does that mean? About the relics…you only get the magic once the first owner is dead, and you inherit it?”
Akira is too upset to hear me, but I glance at Oda. The face gives one single nod.
Yes.
For a moment, I can’t move. I feel like a vital organ has been knifed out of me or I’ve lost too much blood.
He’s dead.
My body acts before my thoughts catch up. I turn and get the hell out, pushing past the tapestry and through the door to the camp. Vaguely, I hear Violet coming out behind me. She says something, but I don’t hear it.
My mind flounders madly all over the place. Papa.
Maybe it doesn’t matter.
Dead.
Gone.
Same thing, right?
Mama had to have known. I’m not surprised. I’m sure she thought she was helping in some messed-up way by keeping bad things to herself, shouldering them so Emi and I didn’t have to.
But damn.
My ears ring and the sense of madness I felt in the barrack only increases. I try to figure it out. If Papa being dead is better or worse or the same or…I don’t know.
“Ren.” Violet’s voice pierces my fog. “Ren, what’s wrong?”
My jaw tightens so hard my teeth ache. I give a sharp nod, not trusting myself to speak. I rub my hand roughly over my face. Violet is quiet.
Finally, I gather myself enough to say, “My father…I just—”
She gasps, the connections clicking together in her mind.
“Oh, Ren.” So much compassion fills her voice that I don’t know what to do.
It puts me in a state of fight or flight, like I have to get away from the feeling or destroy it.
But apparently there’s a third option. Freeze, which is what I do, standing there dumbly.
Violet takes a step toward me as though she’s going to embrace me.
It’s enough to free me. I jerk away, and then she’s the one who freezes.
“Are you all right? Do you need anything?”
A crazy thought crosses my already scrambled mind.
It might be okay to let her in. Hell, I feel like I’ve just been dragged over rocks.
I’ve never felt so alone in my life, which is saying something.
But I have to keep my head on straight. I have to remember who I am and who she is, so she can’t screw me up any more than she already has.
“I’m going to go,” I say.
“Oh.” She speaks barely above a whisper. “Of course. I understand.” Her hands fold together. Then she asks in the same tone, “Will I see you again? When you’re ready?”
Yes races like forbidden fire to the tip of my tongue. And not just one yes, a thousand yeses.
But I don’t say a single one.
Instead, I half shrug, half shake my head. She takes a breath. Then she crosses her arms. There’s a shift between us. I shove both my hands deep inside my pockets, hiding the pain it causes my shoulder. I should go. Except I can’t.
She leaves instead.
She leaves and I’m the one rooted to the dirt. The fire of the yeses floods down to my feet. They burn my soles, desperate for me to run after her. I don’t move. I watch as she gets smaller and smaller. Right before she disappears around the block, she pulls the ribbon from her hair.
I turn the opposite way.