“So it was a common story?” Jo asked, eagerly trying to keep the conversation going.

  “I guess you could say that.” Samson paused, clearly giving it some thought for the first time. “Most people knew it, at least.”

  “Do you know where it came from? Was there any truth to it?”

  He looked up, startled.

  “No I-I don't, I’m sorry.”

  “No, Sam, it’s fine. . . Like I said, I’m a little bit work crazy, I think.” Jo forced a laugh. “Nothing I say is making sense, just ignore me.”

  “It's all right.”

  “Anyway, I should go back to it.”

  “Did you need my help for anything else? Because I. . .” The way his words reached a sudden halt and the long pause had Jo's mind immediately filling in the blank. She remembered what he had said about his magic earlier and the way it wasn't working right.

  “No, you’re great, Samson—” She emphasized great. “I should go.”

  Once again, she was leaving Samson’s room as abruptly as she came. He wore confusion on his face, but at the very least he didn’t look offended. It seemed like they were all willing to forgive certain lapses in etiquette lately, for the sake of having their privacy.

  Jo folded her arms as she started back for the recreation room, thinking over the information Eslar and Samson had given her. There were the pillars worlds were supported on, and the Elvish rituals used to feed them; there was a magical arrow, and the unknown hero destined to wield it . . .

  Jo’s mind was so busy processing her conversation with Samson, picking apart every possible conclusion, that she didn't even notice she was on a collision course until it was too late.

  One moment she walking with determined strides, and the next she was stumbling, grabbing the wall for support. Instinct had her reaching out, trying to catch the other person before they could tumble due to her complete blindsiding. Her hand closed around a bicep, toned and hard.

  Yeah, like she was really about to offer Takako support. The woman could likely break her in two if she wanted.

  “I’m sorry,” Jo said hastily. “I was totally gone, I didn't even see you.”

  Takako shook her head. “I was looking for you.”

  Wanting In

  “You . . . were looking for me?” Jo asked slowly.

  There was nothing subtle about the way Takako was studying her—inspecting, more like. The woman may as well have been wearing a sign that said, “I have questions and suspicions.” But Jo didn’t know what the answers to those questions would be yet, and until she did, she was ready to play dumb.

  “Yes.”

  “How’d things go at the police station?” Jo asked, trying to mask her disappointment at Takako’s presence. She’d been hoping for more time.

  “As well as to be expected.” Takako took one step backward, as if to be less imposing. It didn’t work.

  Jo’s attempts at small talk were going over about as well as a candle in a typhoon and she looked for a hasty out. “I should get back to working on the wish. . . Unless you needed the rec room for anything?”

  “No, I don’t.” Despite saying she had no further business, Takako continued to linger.

  “Great.” Jo pulled off her bracelet, ready to retreat into the recreation room.

  Takako caught her wrist right as Jo placed her watch on the shelf. She leaned in, dropping her voice to a whisper. Jo had a sense of what the woman was going to say before the words traversed her lips; there was only one explanation for how she was acting. “I know something is up.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jo whispered back.

  “Don’t play dumb. I know you and Wayne have something going on right now.”

  “Wayne and me?” Jo blinked in surprise.

  “Wh—no, no, not like that.” Takako rolled her eyes dramatically and leaned closer. “I know you’re both hiding something.”

  Takako had only spent a few hours with Wayne and it was that obvious. Jo swallowed hard. Game time decision—lie, or bring Takako in on it. She studied the woman’s face, as though the answer would be written somewhere around Takako’s cheeks.

  Takako was strong and clearly knew how to keep her mouth shut, given her past profession. She was also newer to the Society, like Jo. If anything, she was likely even less attached to the “this was how its always been” thinking than Wayne, making her a potentially easier-to-gain ally.

  “Not here.” Jo glanced down the hall. She had intended to motion to Pan’s door, but her eyes fell on Snow’s.

  The last time Jo had spent any time with him was right after Nico’s death, and that whole period was a blur. After the tears had faded and grief set in, Jo didn’t want anyone. It was an ache so deep that she didn’t even want to be consoled about it.

  Then there was the wish, not more than a few days later. All of which put her on the track that had led her to where she stood now—a place of secrecy and suspicion. Eventually, she would have to confront Snow. He was the only one who could give her the true answers she sought, or confirm whatever she found. It was too soon, though. She needed to find out more on her own, and face him when she was armed with more surety and knowledge.

  “Inside,” Jo whispered, pulling Takako into the recreation room. Jo took a deep breath, wondering where to begin. “I have a plan.”

  “Of what kind?”

  “I want to bring down the Society.” Jo waited for a reaction. When there was none, she said, “You don’t look surprised.”

  Takako tipped her head back, looking at Jo over her lower eyelashes. Even though Takako was shorter than her, she felt taller in that moment—like a teacher assessing a student. Her black eyes betrayed nothing.

  “I had a feeling.”

  “How?”

  “You didn’t think you were the only one angry at the status quo after Nico, do you?”

  Jo glanced behind her, confirming her desk chair was there, before falling heavily into it. She laced her fingers, suddenly feeling like this had become a business transaction she hadn’t asked for but definitely wanted.

  “I didn’t take you for the type to stand against orders,” Jo confessed.

  “I’m a soldier, not a robot.” Takako’s eyes fluttered closed and she gave a soft sigh, the tension in her shoulders easing some. “I’m a soldier by choice, at that. But this fight . . . I was drafted into it. And I don’t know if I can trust the place my orders are coming from anymore.”

  “I think Snow is as much of a prisoner as we are.” Jo was a little too eager to rise to his defense.

  Takako made a soft humming noise, but didn’t comment on the matter. Instead, she asked, “What’s your plan?”

  “I’m still working that out,” Jo confessed. “Wayne is helping buy me time, so I can work on the side.”

  “Where are you starting? Give me the debrief of what you have so far.” Tactical. Jo could use a mind like Takako’s. By the moment she was appreciating her decision to let Takako in on her machinations more and more.

  “So far, I’m trying to grab information on the Society. I’ve gone and asked Eslar and Samson about some things . . . but my leading theory is that there may be something to the fact that the lore of the Society lingers across the ages.”

  “You mean the fact that even when the world is rebuilt, the information about a Wish Granter and circles to summon him lives on?” Takako clarified.

  “Exactly.” Jo nodded. “Why? Why does that live on when everything else can get destroyed and rebuilt?”

  “Because the Society needs wishes to survive?” Takako surmised.

  “Yes, but . . . is it Snow that makes sure it lives on? Or is it something else?” Jo shook her head, not wanting to return the topic to Snow. “Furthermore . . . there’s the Age of Magic.”

  “When Eslar and Samson are from.”

  “Indeed.” Jo began pulling things up on the computer, pleased to see that her set-up was exactly how she left it. . . including the still-fried monitor. Jo cast a wary eye, but didn’t give it too much attention, as if that would tempt her magic to act out again. “There’s other lore, about gods and mythologies, that has lingered through the ages, like the Society. Well, not quite like the Society. Information on the Society seems to remain in perfect condition. This other lore seems to be fractured while still persisting. I’m thinking maybe there’s something in there.”

  “Like what, specifically?” Takako crossed to the futon across from Jo’s desk. She gave a little bounce, pushing on the seat, clearly impressed by its comfort.

  “I don’t know yet. It’s still formulating in my head. . .”

  Takako folded her hands, resting her elbows on her knees. “If we operate under the assumption that the mythology of the gods persisting has something to do with the Society. . . Then are you saying you think the Society has something to do with these aforementioned gods?”

  Demigod, a step up from prince. Jo recalled the words from when Snow had first told her snippets of his history. A demigod was ruling their Society. Demigod. From the Age of Gods. Surely, that was significant.

  “Maybe. . .” Jo said slowly. “Maybe I am. Maybe there’s something to lore, memories, divinities, that lingers through the ages even after the Age of Gods.”

  “Age of Gods?” Takako arched her eyebrows.

  “Oh . . . it came before the Age of Magic.”

  “Where Snow is from, then,” Takako said without missing a beat. At Jo’s surprise, she added, “I figured it was a reasonable assumption, given how close you are.”

  Jo nodded, turning back to the monitors. She didn’t want to talk about Snow. And yet. . .

  “Does he know?”

  “What?” Jo’s fingers stilled and she looked over her shoulder as though she’d been caught red-handed.

  “Does Snow know what you’re doing?”

  “Not yet,” Jo confessed.

  “When will you tell him?” Not if, when.

  “I don’t know.” Jo shook her head. “I don’t want him to stop me.”

  “Good.” Takako leaned back on the couch, giving her an approving stare. “Don’t let him stop you, then.”

  “I won’t,” Jo vowed, though she wasn’t sure who she was reassuring.

  “All right, then, where shall we begin?”

  From there, Jo told Takako everything. Well, almost everything. For some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to mention the desk, or monitor. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Takako; she just wanted more time with her magic, more time to mull it over and figure it out.

  Jo wanted more time for everything. But like their watches, time was ticking, a rare and precious thing that they were never going to get back.

  BTCOTS NOTES 4

  Takako=Genius.

  (Find her if short hand doesn’t make sense)

  Hachiman (Japanese divinity of Archery & War)

  Bow + War blended

  Back to Eslar’s book? (God of Hunt, not war there)

  Samurai worshiped

  “God of Eight Banners” for 8 heavenly banners for a legendary Emperor

  Eight banners = first Society reference?

  BUT Only 7 lineages. Count snow?

  Nowhere Safe

  Jo hadn’t made nearly as much progress as she’d hoped.

  Takako had stayed for a good few hours, helping brainstorm and culling through suggestions. But she eventually left, not wanting to arouse suspicions about them spending so much time together in seclusion. Alone, Jo looked through things that she hadn’t told Takako about—namely related to destructive magics. But that was short-lived.

  She alternated between seemingly futile research on ancient magics and mythologies, and mind-numbing attempts to understand AI coding that most people spent years—decades—learning.

  Her mind felt overwhelmed, every circuit shorted and blackened out from electrical fires she couldn’t find the energy to put out anymore. Her magic, and her own basic knowledge, had made understanding the programming language possible, but utilizing it was another matter entirely. Especially since that wasn’t the only thing on her mind.

  By the time Jo finally allowed herself a break, it was morning and fourteen hours straight since she’d last entered the recreation room. She wanted to believe it was her work ethic that had kept her locked away for so long, but she’d be lying to herself if she said that was all.

  She wanted to have answers. She was tired of being left in the dark and wanted to emerge triumphant. But she left the rec room as in the dark as her still-broken computer monitor.

  The gelatin blob Jo had transformed into oozed out into the hallway.

  Everything felt heavy, fuzzy. She shook her head and leaned against the door as she pulled her watch from the shelf. She’d given every bit of energy she’d had and poured it into her research. And for what? Overall, it felt like a whole lot of nothing.

  She headed to the kitchen, drawn by the smell of food. Unsurprisingly, it was Samson bustling about. But the sight of him, where it had once brought joy, now filled Jo with a lingering sense of worry.

  How was his magic doing?

  That worry was edged out by the sight of the full island. Partaking in Samson’s lavish spread was every member of the Society—every chair occupied but two (hers, and Nico’s). Snow was among them, talking casually to Eslar as he picked at the fruit on his plate like a noncommittal bird.

  But that wasn’t the biggest shock. The biggest shock was Pan. She sat on the far corner, slowly stirring her coffee with her bright pink straw, chin in the other hand and a little shit-eating grin playing on her lips.

  Jo eased herself into the other open chair, thankful that Wayne and Takako had sat on either side of Snow, giving Jo a buffer. Her mind felt too frazzled to be on point and all she wanted was the giant mug of coffee that magically appeared in Samson’s hand and was placed before her. She’d barely had time to raise it to her lips before Snow spoke.

  “Jo,” Snow said, a simple greeting. Despite the distance that had been growing between them, the word settled warm and comforting around her heart. It was almost enough to make her ask him to say her name again, to ask him to invite her back to his room so she could lean on him for support while she worked through all the kinks of her plan.

  “Good morning,” she replied to the room at large, though she kept her eyes mostly on Snow. The brief, simple exchange seemed to give permission to everyone else to speak, and small chatter picked up.

  Samson’s cooking was beyond good, yet again. But Jo found it slightly bitter. She wondered if it was her palate, or if his magic was breaking down further. . . wondered if it was still somehow her fault. Either way, best not to linger on things she couldn’t (yet) control.

  Conversation was flowing more easily than it had in the past, the haze of Nico’s death finally lifting. Even if tensions remained high due to the wish, everyone was making an effort. Eslar was quick to inquire about Jo’s progress over the course of the night. She explained what she’d managed to accomplish so far, to the general confusion of the room, and told them of her plans for the rest of the day.

  “I still have a lot to do, but my head feels clearer now,” she said, putting her fork down on her empty plate. Even with her stomach in knots, she’d managed to clean it. “Especially after a nice break and good food with better company to lift the spirits.” She smiled at Samson for good measure and then added, “Shouldn’t be long now I don’t think.”

  “That’s good to hear,” Eslar said, mostly to himself. If Jo thought she heard surprise in his voice, she was probably just imagining it. It was no good getting worked up over something she didn’t even know to be true, especially when it came to her team’s faith in her. She would not fail, and she liked to think they didn’t doubt that.

  “Do you plan to go right back to it then?” Takako asked, and Jo nodded.

  But before she could speak up, Pan snatched control of the conversation.

  “You two were at it for a while last night,” she said slyly.

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Jo was far too tired to indulge the woman and her games.

  “Just surprised you managed to get any work done on the wish.”

  Jo and Takako exchanged a look.

  “Elaborate, Pan?” Eslar asked outright.

  Pan’s whole face brightened at the opportunity to speak to someone other than Jo, eager to spill what she had clearly come to the table to talk about from the beginning.

  “I just heard them talking and chattering all night is all,” she said dramatically, tossing her violet tresses over her spaghetti-strapped shoulders, massaging them for good measure. “They kept going on about mythology, or some such. I couldn’t make out all the details though.”

  “What are you talking about?” Jo asked quietly, horror stealing the strength of her voice.

  Pan’s cat eyes drifted back to her. “Josephina, the recreation room is right against mine. Of course I know what goes on in there.”

  That made no sense. None. Jo could list the reasons with the taste of metallic panic on her tongue.

  The recreation rooms seemed to exist in their own reality. They took every shape and size, and did just as the occupant wanted. They were like a miniature version of the Society, inside the Society. There was no way that in all of those variations, Pan shared a wall—and a poorly soundproofed one at that.

  “You came to me about mythology,” Eslar said, turning to Jo. “What are you getting into?”

  “I’m not getting into anything,” Jo insisted.

  “Then how is it related to the wish?” Snow’s voice cut through the chatter and drew her eyes to him and him alone. Just one look, and she ached. He knew something was amiss. She could see his suspicion and it damn near killed her.

  But if it killed her, she was instantly reborn from the frustration of all the secrets he kept and continued to keep from them.

  “I don’t question any of your processes; I’d appreciate it if you don’t question mine.” Jo raised her mug to her lips, taking a long sip of coffee and making eye contact with no one.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97