by J. Elle
This is it.
When they remove the cuffs, that’s my chance.
A tech with a dusty blond hair enters the room and the door clanks behind him, locked. He sets down his clipboard.
“Officers.” He nods at both of them. “This won’t take long, Rue.” He says my name like he knows me. He don’t know anything about me. I loosen my hoodie around my neck.
Tech Dude hovers over a tray of assorted syringes, a tiny bowl, and instruments that look way too sharp to touch living flesh. “If you’ll assist me, sirs. Help hold her still.”
The taller Patrolman joins the tech over the instruments, their backs turned.
“We’ll knock her out for the most of it,” he says to Patrol, holding a syringe. The rest of his words are a dull buzzing in my ear as his buddy reaches for the cuffs on my wrists.
Seconds. You will have seconds.
He slides the key into the restraints. “Now, hold still. Don’t make this more painful than it needs to be.”
Any second.
There’s a clink and my hands are free.
Onyx tingles against my wrists and my insides swell with heat. I can feel my magic gathering, pooling, growing, the deeper I dig. My fingertips prickle.
Now.
I knock Patrol’s hand away and whip open my palms, wisps of energy thrashing there. He reaches for me, but I dart sideways, scorching his fingers with my magic. He groans in pain and falls back. The tech yelps, backing away as the other guard hustles toward me.
Focus.
The flames flickering in Tasha’s wide eyes, her tears when I said goodbye, the General’s smug grin, the Chancellor’s condescending stare—all of those moments play on repeat in my head. Heat torches my veins as I pull all that anger to the balls fused to my wrist.
The sphere of lightning in my hands rips and crackles, doubling in size. I slam the magic together and thrust at the door. The walls shudder and the door pops off its hinges, clanging on the floor. I dodge sideways, missing Patrolman’s garb by inches, and stumble into the hallway.
Four guards are at my back as I book it down the corridor, latching my watch back on my wrist. They’re fast but my feet fly with passion. The watch uses a synthesized signal from something, Bri’d said. However she designed it, it only works outside.
I need to get out of this building and fast.
Streaks of light shoot past me as they throw one curse after another. I run harder, bobbing and weaving before swinging around the corner. A pair of techs huddled over a cart of elixir vials shout as I pass. I ignore them and push through a set of glass doors. The halls all look the same. Which way do I go?
A steady beat of footsteps squeak against the polished floor behind me.
“Hey!” Shouts stab my ears as I dash through the next set of doors, down a hall chock full of people milling about. The courtyard’s on the north end of the building, so surely that’s the way out of here. I charge through, barreling toward the north stairs.
In the stairwell, there are no echoes of footsteps behind me, only nosy folks and confused stares. I slip through the double steel doors, booking it down a few flights of stairs. When I spill out of the stairwell I glance over my shoulder, but they’re gone. I listen.
Silence.
I really lost them! For now.
I turn back. What are the words? How does it go? Uhh… yo, something… ah! “Yo’lum k’dex nae.” My wrists warm and sparks shoot from my palms. The stairs groan, swelling and twisting to twice their size. The metal creaks to a stop and what were just stairs are now a pile of crumpled metal wedged between concrete walls. Let’s see them get past that.
Up ahead, the lengthy corridor opens up. I run until a familiar voice jerks me to a halt.
“Rue?” A deep line is nestled between Bri’s brows, her blond braid dangling. “I was so worried. So I decided to come down here and wait. Are you—”
Apparently my face says more than my words can. She grips my shoulders and pulls me into a hug, squeezing tight. Bri is one of the nicest people I’ve ever met. She’d never last a day where I’m from, but she has a heart of gold.
“Where will you go?”
“The Chancellor plans to kill whoever I touched.” I don’t say my sister’s name because even muttering those words makes my hair stand tall. Bri knows. She knows all of it. She gasps, barring her mouth shut.
“I can’t let him hurt her.”
“Your watch.”
“I have it. Luke.”
She pulls me to her, crashing against my chest. Tears slip between her lashes. This isn’t how I imagined saying goodbye either. For just a moment, I rest my chin on her shoulder—the shoulder of the only friend I’ve made in this lonely place. I want to say so many things. See ya later doesn’t do it justice.
Other kids were straight up rude when I showed up, talking down to me when they’d explain spells, assuming I’m stupid and shit. Because just like back home, people think different means less. Less capable. Less competent.
“That girl gon’ over-enunciate one more damn time, and I’ma pop her ass in the mouth,” I had said under my breath during a spell-casting class.
Bri had laughed. “I’ll put a sticky spell on her feet so you can get away.” That’s when I knew we’d be inseparable.
“She’s not a native?” one bouje girl had asked the teacher, literally in front of my face! “How do we know she’s not lying about who she is, where she’s from?”
Because here, like back home, different also means untrustworthy.
Some days it was easier to shrug off, other days I wanted to claw my eyeballs out. When it gets like that, though, Bri’s always there to distract me from wallowing, pull me into studying, or just make me laugh.
And that makes her as good as family.
I want to tell her all she means to me, but the words are jumbled when I try to speak. I squeeze her back and break the hug, hoping she can feel all my love, all my thanks for making this place semi-tolerable.
“Get outside,” she sniffles. “The coordinates are still in there. Don’t waste a second.”
I tap my wrist and the screen glows blue.
Her voice cracks. “When you’re ready, press and hold the button down for—”
“Three seconds, I remember,” I say. “This isn’t goodbye forever. I promise.”
She nods, tears streaked across her lips. “Be careful, Rue.”
After one last firm hand squeeze, I jet off, scanning for a red EXIT sign and keep running down the hall. North, just head north. I know the doors to this building face north. I round another corner and finally spot them.
Cool air whips around me when I burst through and my stomach plummets at the 400-something-foot drop below. I lift my sleeves, finger hovering over my watch, when a door clicks behind me. Aasim stands in the doorway, wind wrestling his garb.
For a second I want to go to him. Stupid. What am I thinking? The feeling confuses me. Angers me. He says nothing, just stares.
He’s letting me go.
“Not going to say goodbye?” he asks, breaking the silence.
I study my feet, guilt wedging a hole in my resolve. I don’t owe him a goodbye. I don’t owe him or anyone a damned thing. Armed guards burst through the door at his back, weapons raised. Aasim raises a hand and they halt.
“But, sir, the Chancellor said—”
“I don’t care what the Chancellor said, stand down!” His words crack like a whip and the guards retreat inside. That was nice of him. More than nice. Fatherly.
What do I say… thanks? I really don’t have time for this. Words flood my mind, but I press my lips tight. My attention for these few seconds is all I have right now; the best I can give.
“Rue, this won’t work. The Chancellor is too powerful. Too—”
“I’d prefer to die trying than not try at all.”
With guards several paces away, he whispers. “There’s so much I want to tell you. So much you don’t know. I-I might even have a way to
help.” He looks over his shoulder. “What happens if you go out there and lose? What happens to her if you get in trouble or hurt?”
I can’t think like that. Moms raised a diamond. My sister needs me.
My watch face warms to my thumb.
“Rue, please. Stay, let me help you.”
Three…
“When you were born I promised your mother I’d keep you both safe.”
Two…
I meet his eyes. “You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep.”
One…
I turn, and in a blip, I’m gone.
CHAPTER 9
TASHA LOVES THE CARAMEL java at Joe’s Joe, a coffee shop and bookstore that’s about a twenty-minute bus ride from where she lives. I hate that it’s so far, but it is what it is: You gotta leave the hood to find a library or bookstore.
Metal industrial-style tables fill the space in neat rows. Matching chairs cluster around them like people have been in and out all day. A velvet plum sofa sits on the far end of the shop against an exposed brick wall, near the ordering counter. Just past that is a doorway that leads to the book area. A barista with full lips and a long, dark ponytail taps her phone, smacking on a piece of gum. Customer line’s empty, but the tables are practically full.
No Ghizonis on my tail.
Yet.
I had $3.84 in my pocket when I left this place a year ago. Dollars are no use in Ghizon, so I dig it out to grab T her favorite drink from her favorite spot while I tell her the second worst news she’ll ever hear: People from Ghizon—people she doesn’t even know—want her dead.
I shift in my seat and I check my watch.
3:17 p.m.
She should be here any second. My phone still works on Wi-Fi and thankfully had a bit of juice left even though it hasn’t been turned on in a minute. I told Tash to come here straight after school. She was so happy to hear from me so soon that she didn’t even ask any questions.
I don’t have a plan besides running. I didn’t learn any spells back in Ghizon that could help us stay hidden. And then there’s the problem of her grandma ’nem finding out. We can’t have them thinking she disappeared. I don’t want them to worry. I just wanna keep us safe.
Chatter buzzes above me like a cloud. Every close of the register or chair sliding across the floor makes my heart jump in my chest.
3:18 p.m.
I drum my fingers on the table. Somehow I’ll find a way out of this. It’s not even a choice, really. If we have to, we’ll run. No one is touching her. She has her dad’s people and grandma, but they can’t protect her from the Chancellor. At least I have magic. They have… the police? That’s a joke.
I thumb the glassy ball fused to my wrist. As awful as Ghizon was, I did get magic out of it, which will come in handy. But shoot, if I use it, they can trace it. Hmm. Maybe Bri can help. She has a tech solution to everything.
3:19 p.m.
News headlines roll across a TV screen mounted to the wall overhead. Images of yellow police tape and red and blue lights flash next to some news lady talking. Green letters in the corner spell MUTE. I don’t need sound to know someone’s been shot up.
A bell chimes and the door swishes open. Tasha steps inside, peering in every direction. Somehow, laying my eyes on her again makes me feel a little better. I hate that we couldn’t talk after everything went down. I couldn’t explain more about Ghizon. I’m not even sure what she’s thinking.
I pull down my hood and blow the steaming mug as she walks over. Dark circles hug her eyes, which turn down at the corners. She weaves between tables and I take another glance around.
“T.” I greet her with a tight squeeze. She smells like honey and jasmine. Like everything that is sweet in the world.
“You came back,” she says.
“Of course, and I won’t be leaving you ever again.” I reach to squeeze her hand. But she pulls away.
“Your favorite.” I slide the mug across the table a little too eagerly, leaving a trail of spills behind it. “With extra caramel and whipped cream, just like you like it.”
“You doing okay?” I ask, ready for her questions.
She shrugs. “I guess. I—I just don’t understand… why you had to leave, why you couldn’t stay, how you’re here.…”
“Sometimes people think they know better.” I wish I had a better answer. “You know how it is. Moms was gone and Aasim figured he’d snatch me up instead of letting CPS get me or whatever.”
She folds her arms.
“I told him I wanted to take you with me, T.” I reach across the table for her fingers.
She doesn’t take them.
“I told him but he didn’t listen.”
“Aasim?” She cups the mug in her hands but doesn’t take a sip. “That your dad?”
“Aasim. The dude Moms was laid up with.” My fingers hang there, grasping at air.
She purses her lips. “So what makes this time different, Rooty?”
Damn. Ain’t been called that in a minute. Moms started calling me that because my favorite cereal was Rooty Roo’s. I’d eat it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner some days. I don’t even know if I liked it that much or if that’s just all we had. I chuckle. Moms would buy boxes in epic proportion whenever Bulk Buy had a sale. Feels like a lifetime ago.
“This time I’m not letting them take me back. No one’s gonna break us up again.” I reach harder. “Tash, I won’t leave you again. I promise.”
She looks out the window instead of at me and it’s like the air in Joe’s Joe turns frigidly cold. She has Moms’s profile. Those same high cheekbones and naturally long lashes. Her lips purse like Moms’s too. But her nose, that’s all her dad’s people. I have Moms’s nose and her sable complexion. She’s so beautiful. A ghost of sadness haunts Tasha’s expression, but her eyes don’t drop a single tear. She’s tough like Moms too. Like me.
“Okay,” she says, finally meeting my eyes.
“Okay?”
“Okay.” She blows and takes a cautious sip from the mug.
She needs to know everything. So she gets how serious this is. “There’s more I need to tell you.”
I reach for her and to my relief we lock fingers. I explain everything that just transpired in Ghizon. She gasps and her mouth falls open lower and lower with every passing second.
She snatches her hand away, eyes wide with fear. “I… he…”
“Listen to me. I will never let them touch you. And they don’t even know it’s you.”
Yet.
She nods like she’s trying to believe me.
“Tasha, it’s always been us. When Moms was working all night, when she was doing a triple shift on the weekends, every day after school. We always gonna be alright. As long as we stick together.” I lean in for a whisper. “And with this magic, I can make sure we stay safe.”
I want to believe it even if it isn’t true. I have to believe it. I’m the only one who can protect us.
“There’s all sorts of stuff I can do because of these.” I flash her a quick peek at the onyx bubbles on my wrists. “And if something goes down, you saw how I handled it the other day.”
She smooths her cheeks clean, nodding.
“I will fix this. Nobody is hurting my family.”
She sniffles and chuckles all at the same time and my chest is a little lighter. “It’s ironic, isn’t it? You never even wanted to know anything about your dad’s side of the family.”
I bristle at the word “dad.”
“And yet it’s the magic from the family you have no love for that’ll protect the family you do love.”
For a second words don’t come and a bitter taste spreads on my tongue. “They’re the enemy, T. Don’t make it more than it is. Finish up that drink and let’s get out of here.”
She takes a sip, wrapping her long fingers around the cracked porcelain. Moms said we could play piano with our long fingers. Never tried, but I bet Tash’d be good. In another life. Or maybe a different time.
<
br /> Life will be different for us.
I’ll make sure of it.
The line at the register has lengthened and Full Lips is blushing at someone placing an order. Next to the trash can a pair of guys wait in line for the restroom.
“So I-I mean I-I saw things when you touched me by the car, but, like… what is it like there?” Tasha reaches for my wrist, rubbing the onyx beneath my sleeve. “Does it hurt?”
“Getting it fused to my skin hurt like a bitch.”
She snorts. “Does everyone there have that?”
“Mostly, yep. They call it being Bound… like bound to magic. The Chancellor calls it an ‘act of benevolence.’ ” I add air quotes to the last part.
“Which one was the Chancellor?”
“He’s basically like the president in Ghizon. He runs everything, and his right-hand man—the General—does his dirty work.”
“So Mr. Magic Giver is a jerk behind the scenes but puts on a nice face in front of the people? Doesn’t sound much different from here.”
I snort. “Exactly. You get it.”
“Where does the stone come from?” She studies my wrist. “Like, could I get one? Maybe if there were two of us with magic…”
My stomach sinks. It’s only normal she’d wonder, but we can’t even start thinking like that. Going back to Ghizon is like a brutha in baggy clothes walking into a police station. I’m trying to keep us alive.
“No, there’s no way. They don’t want my Black ass with magic, you think they gon’ hand it out to you, too?”
She laughs and I feel a smidge better. She’s right: Two of us with magic would probably be smarter, but there’s no way that can happen so I don’t even want to get her hopes up.
The taller man waiting to get into the restroom still hovers near the trash station. We meet eyes. He darts his gaze in another direction a bit too quickly.
“So, I mean, what do they look like when they come here?” she asks. “Patrol, or whatever they’re called. If they’re going to be after us I should at least know what to look out for.”
The restroom door opens and the sound of flushing grows faint as it clicks closed. Vacant. The man near the trash can doesn’t move. I think he’s waiting on the restroom. I mean, he’s been there for a minute… what else could he…
