“Storm, no!” Twist gasped, staring down the barrel of the gun. Jonas looked at the gun that was trained on him in grim, stony silence.
Twist’s mind burned with a chaotic wildfire of terror, flashing images to him in random order: his calm, quiet, attic room in London where he had never known fear; the quaint bungalow he’d lived in in Hawaii, where the waves tumbled softly on the shore and the palm trees sounded like rain; a cozy apartment above a theater somewhere in Europe where he’d waited for Myra to return to him after dancing for the audience; the Vimana cabin he shared with Myra, sleeping every night in her comforting arms. There had been innumerable moments of calm and peace, where he should have remained. Why had he ever left any of them, to now find himself about to be murdered by an insane, crazed monster that looked like a child?
Storm smiled at them both in turn. “This will be over in a moment, Master. You’ll be home very soon.”
Twist’s eyes closed on their own, blinding him to his imminent death. He heard the guns fire in unison, heard the explosion that forced the twin bullets out into the air. The sound echoed off of the floor and the dome above them, sounding like a dreadful, shrieking cry before dying into silence, just as he and Jonas would an instant later. Time itself seemed to stop in that moment, while Twist’s final breaths came to him, air tasting sweeter than he’d ever noticed before.
As the silence continued to stretch for a second heartbeat, however, Twist suddenly realized that time hadn’t stopped at all. The bullet hadn’t struck him. He opened his eyes to find Myra and Idris standing before them, both wearing astonished expressions…but Storm and his pistols were nowhere to be seen. Jonas continued to breathe beside him as well, apparently unharmed as he stared at Myra in stunned amazement.
“Oh, thank heaven,” Myra said, her voice shaking.
“How…?” Twist began, utterly confused. He met Jonas’s now brilliantly blue eyes, looking for answers, but found only a growing smile of pure relief.
“Myra?” Idris said gently to her. “Would you please wish them free?”
“Oh!” Myra said, as if waking from a trance. “Yes, of course. I wish Twist and Jonas were free. Thank you.”
Idris smiled warmly to her as the chains immediately snapped harmlessly off of them and fell to the floor.
Twist shot to his feet, backing away from the chains. He looked around him and found that Storm had indeed vanished without a trace. His stunned mind began to make sense of what must have happened as he noticed the acorn resting on the floor at Myra’s feet. A billowing wave of admiration, pride, and delight nearly drowned him in bliss as he realized that she had managed to snatch the acorn from the boy’s pocket, therefore taking ownership of Idris once the final wish had been granted. The lamenting voice he’d barely heard—his mind melding it with the sound of the shot in his terror—had been Myra’s, wishing the boy away.
Myra smiled weakly at Twist as he stared at her, open mouthed. A laugh broke out of him as he rushed for her, wrapping her ghostly form in his arms. Myra embraced him back, her relief and joy perfectly obvious to him, although his Sight couldn’t quite catch it from the touch of her spirit. Twist let his abused emotions blur over with bliss, as the simple fact that he still lived overshadowed all other thoughts.
“Kiss that girl for me, will you, Twist?” Jonas said, his voice smooth and his smile warm.
Twist laughed at the brazen suggestion and pulled back from Myra’s embrace just enough to look on her glorious, innocent, childlike beauty. He obliged Jonas gladly, Myra’s soft, chilly, form melting eagerly into him.
“Where is Storm now, anyway?” Jonas asked, once the excitement of his and Twist’s survival had calmed slightly.
“I don’t know,” Myra said, looking to Idris. “I only wished him away. Where did you send him?”
“Oh,” Idris said casually, “he’s in a locked cell, in the Rooks’ most secure facility, hidden deep under Big Ben in London. That’s pretty far away, wouldn’t you say?”
“You gave him to the Rooks?” Jonas asked, sounding impressed. “You know, they’re going to question him incessantly and maybe even do some nasty experiments to see what he’s made of.”
“We can only hope,” Idris said with a wide smile.
Although he was somewhat surprised by his own unkind sentiments, Twist indulged himself a smile at the idea as well.
“Good heavens,” Twist said admiringly to Myra, who he still held close to him, one arm resting comfortably around her waist, “I can hardly believe you managed to make your wish before the bullets struck us.”
“I’m not really sure I did, actually,” she said, looking to Idris again with a questioning look.
“There wasn’t any time to waste,” Idris said with a shrug. “I felt your intentions clearly the moment you touched the acorn. I could guess what you were going to say well enough.”
“But I thought people had to say wishes for you to grant them,” Jonas countered. “I thought that was a hard rule.”
“I can jump the gun, as it were,” Idris said, clearly pleased with his somewhat tasteless pun, “if I can sense my master’s intent clearly enough. But I can’t deny their wish, once it’s spoken. People don’t usually form such clear wishes in their minds before they speak them,” he added with a smile to Myra. “Thank you for thinking so clearly.”
“I suppose we saved them together, then,” Myra said happily.
Twist dearly wished he could have felt her sparkling joy in that moment, but as always, his Sight showed him nothing of her emotions when in her ghostly form.
“Idris,” Jonas said, stepping up to the djinn and looking him very nearly in the eye. “You didn’t have to care about saving us. But you did. You’re a far better man than I thought you were,” he said, offering Idris a handshake. Twist smiled, knowing how much it took to get Jonas to openly express true gratitude to anyone.
Idris also appeared somewhat startled by Jonas. He looked to the offered hand, but his form then seemed to sag slightly as his face fell into silent misery. Confused by this response, Jonas silently let his hand fall away to his side and glanced to Twist questioningly. Twist could offer no explanation at all.
“I’m sorry…” Idris muttered softly, shaking his head as if to clear it. “I just—” He paused, looking away from both Jonas and Twist. “I’m not such a good person as you think. You shouldn’t be kind to me. You, of all men.”
Jonas stood silently for a moment, while both he and Twist struggled to make sense of Idris’s words. “Do you plan to explain that at all?” Jonas asked him finally.
Idris took a heavy, thoughtful, and deeply remorseful breath before he seemed to force himself to look back to Jonas. He studied Jonas’s face for a long moment, while Jonas kept his gaze clear of the djinn’s golden eyes.
“I had no idea who you were, when we first met,” Idris said softly. Then he turned to glance at Twist. “Either of you.”
Jonas crossed his arms, his anxiety rising in the buzz at Twist’s neck. “Who we are?”
“Mad little Storm’s master,” Idris answered with a bitter grin.
“Do you mean that bollocks about fairy souls?” Jonas asked sharply.
“Don’t say that!” Idris snapped urgently. “Don’t ever say their names.” He glanced around at the empty air around them, as if looking out for attacking pixies. “We have no idea if the old warding is still in place over this ancient city.”
“Not you too…” Jonas sighed, shaking his head.
“Why do you refuse to believe that you must be careful?” Idris asked him, growing angry now.
“Because it’s ridiculous!” Jonas yelled back, tossing his hands up. “You honestly expect me to believe that I’ve got a cute little, sparkly, wish-granting, flower-loving ninny living inside me? That because of a creature from a silly children’s story, I had to watch my parents burn alive four days ahead of time, and couldn’t do anything to stop it, because I was only six?”
Jonas fell silent sud
denly as his voice echoed off of the domed ceiling and stone floor. Although he crossed his arms and dropped his gaze to the floor, Twist could feel waves of anguish continue to boil over Jonas as he struggled to bury his pain once again. Myra covered her dismay with a hand, watching him in shock. Idris appeared horrified by what he’d heard, still and silent as stone.
Twist wanted to move closer, to reach out to comfort his friend, but he knew that Jonas would only throw him off, already feeling far too exposed by the truth that had just ripped its way out of him. Instead, Twist measured his own breathing and did his best to calm his own heart. The only comfort he could offer Jonas was a soothing quiet in the buzz at his neck. After a moment, he began to feel Jonas’s emotions slowly calm to match.
Idris was the first to break the silence, speaking softly but firmly when he did. “I can assure you, the creature inside of you is anything but cute and silly. They are the most uncompassionate, proud, cruel, and vicious creatures I have ever encountered. The stories humans tell of them are drastically glamorized.”
Jonas gave a huff.
“Myra, dear,” Idris said, his voice rich with reluctance, “could I implore you to make a wish for me? I don’t want to get anyone killed, but I feel I must explain some things.”
“What’s this?” Jonas asked tartly. “Someone’s actually going to explain something? No, I don’t believe it! You speak madness!”
“Don’t discourage him,” Twist said urgently.
Jonas fell quiet, although Twist felt the silent struggle he fought with himself to do so.
“Myra?” Idris said, looking to her. “Please wish that no one, and no magic, can hear us speaking outside of this space.”
Myra complied with his request immediately, carefully repeating his exact words.
“Thank you,” Idris said with a saddened smile. He snapped his fingers and glanced about at the empty air. “We should be safe for now.”
“Thank you, dear,” Twist said to her, suddenly realizing that she’d used her final wish without a moment’s hesitation.
Myra smiled to him sweetly.
“All right,” Jonas said to Idris. “Spill it.”
Idris looked back at him for a moment, thoughtfully. “I’m going to assume that you know nothing, because it seems that is the case.”
“Apparently,” Jonas responded with a false smile.
“Faeries are constantly at war with each other, in their world,” Idris began. “Of course, in their world, nothing can truly die. The fallen always return in time. But ever since humans began to carry some of their fallen as Sights, there’s now a much longer wait. They can’t return to their world until the host dies in this world. The majority of them are too powerful to cross the borders onto Earth unless they come as a Sight. Only the lower creatures—like satyrs and pixies—are simple enough to pass through. When their greatest soldiers become trapped here, living out a whole human lifetime before they can return, they sometimes send the lower creatures to kill the host more quickly.”
“And that’s why Storm tried to kill them!” Myra said, astonished.
“Yes,” Idris said with a sigh. “But Storm had to be careful,” he added, looking back to Jonas sadly. “You and Twist don’t carry separate fae souls. You each carry one half of the same one, that of the greatest soldier of the winter court.”
Still disbelieving, Jonas glanced to Twist, who returned his skeptical frown with a worried one. Twist heard Hala’s voice echo in his mind, calling he and Jonas “two sides of the same coin.” Mama had made assumptions on the idea that their Sights were linked, as well.
“How the hell could something like that even happen?” Jonas asked Idris incredulously.
Idris looked at him stoically, as if grimly bracing for battle. “It’s my fault.”
Shock and confusion echoed between Twist and Jonas, one feeding off the other. Myra frowned, clearly just as surprised by this odd admission.
“By law,” Idris went on bravely, “my people are not to interfere magically with dragons or faeries. But I…” He paused for a sigh. “I broke that law. I was angry with my people. They had wronged me. I wanted to act out. I granted the wish of the Summer queen. I made her a weapon that would cleave her foe in two. In two pieces, he would need to find two different hosts, two newborn humans taking their first breaths at the same exact time, to survive. She thought that his soul would simply unravel and be utterly destroyed, never to return again.”
Idris smiled weakly, glancing between Twist and Jonas. “No one could have ever expected,” he went on in quiet amazement, “that two human children would be taking their first breaths at the very same moment as she slew the most deadly Winter general. Let alone surviving for nearly another thirty years.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Jonas said, raising a hand. “That was your crime? You made a special weapon for a fairytale war, and that’s why you’re stuck on Earth for a hundred years?”
“I’ve only got a bit more than seventy-two years to serve, now,” Idris said tightly.
Jonas shook his head.
“My people quickly realized what I’d done,” Idris continued bitterly. “My sentence began that very same night, in late November. They destroyed the weapon after its first and only use. That’s why your two Sights are so unique. There are no others like yours.”
Twist’s mind flew into every corner of his meager knowledge of the mysterious workings of his and Jonas’s Sights. The way that the two of them had been drawn together at first, and even now could sense each other’s emotions across a room, was reason enough to believe Idris’s tale. Coupled with everything Mama had told them and the hints they had gotten from Hala and all of the dragons, the idea fit perfectly. Even Kazan’s claim that Twist was worth a great deal now made sense if he’d meant to sell Twist and Jonas to their enemies, or even to the allies of the soul within them.
“I could tell you,” Idris said, his golden eyes trained dismally on the ground, “that I’d had no idea that your Sights would be such burdens to you both. I didn’t believe any human being would ever have to carry the two broken pieces of the slain fae. But that doesn’t change the fact that it is my fault that Twist can touch no one alive without sharing their pain, and that you can’t look into anyone’s eyes without seeing death. For that, I can only say that I truly am sorry.”
Jonas had fallen silent and thoughtful, while the buzz at Twist’s neck went cold. Faced with a single subject to blame for everything that had ever gone wrong in his own life—his detachment from humanity, all of his fears, and even the cause for the murder of his own mother—Twist suddenly realized that he didn’t actually have to forgive Idris for any of it. He’d broken a law, after all, whether or not he’d had any concept of the outcome. Twist could now lay the weight of all his pains on the djinn’s broad shoulders, and no one would ever have the right to think any less of him for it.
He looked to Jonas, fully aware that his friend’s mind was moving along a similar train of thought. Jonas had just as much to blame Idris for as Twist did. That was one more thing that they shared. Regardless of how much Jonas chose to show, they both carried an equal amount of injustice. Perhaps that was another thing that had drawn them together. More than simply the pull of the broken fairy inside them, Twist and Jonas might have both unwittingly recognized each other’s wounds. Perhaps that was why they had grown so close. The simple thought that that might be so lightened Twist’s heart instantly.
How could he ever hate Idris for giving him such a perfect and empathetic ally to help him carry his burdens? If none of those things had ever happened, then Twist and Jonas might have never met. They might not have ever become friends. If Twist had grown up with a normal Sight or none at all, with his French mother and Spanish father, God knows where, would he have ever been called on to repair Myra? Would anyone have ever rescued her at all? Twist’s mind filled quickly with all of the beautiful things that he wouldn’t trade for any amount of the pains he’d suffered to buy them. Whateve
r had happened just before his birth, he didn’t want a different life, a different bride, or a different comrade against the chaos.
Twist turned to Idris. “You never meant to wrong us personally, Idris,” he said. “You said yourself, you never thought anyone would carry our Sights.”
Idris looked to him in clear disbelief. Twist took a breath to clear the last of his doubt.
“What happened to me is not your fault. It was the creature that actually used the weapon. Not you.”
Standing beside him, Myra gazed at Twist in subtle awe, clearly not expecting him to choose to be kind in such a moment. Jonas met Twist’s gaze with eyes of a pale, steel blue that reflected Twist’s own eyes like a mirror. Without saying anything, he simply gave Twist a barely visible nod of agreement. Obviously moved by Twist’s response to his own difficult admission, Idris seemed more unsure and surprised than Twist could ever have imagined to see him.
“Well,” Jonas said, his manner suddenly casual, “I can’t be the only one here who wants to see daylight again. What do you say someone wishes us back to France?”
“Oh yes!” Myra said with a smile. “That’s a lovely idea. But…I used my last wish.”
“Myra’s out of wishes,” Twist announced for Jonas.
Jonas found the acorn left on the ground where Myra’s ghostly hands had dropped it and stooped to snatch it up. He looked at it sitting in the palm of his hand and then glanced toward Idris with an unfriendly smile.
“Do I own you now?” he asked, his voice painted brightly in wicked intent.
Idris glared back at him. “You own the right to three wishes. No more.”
“Of course,” Jonas said, clearly pleased. “Well, I wish we were all back in the French forest, right where Storm took us from.”
Twist, Myra, Jonas, and Idris all appeared suddenly in the falling light of evening, under the shade of the tall, thin, grayish trees of the forest. Twist looked around to find that they were standing exactly where they had been before Storm had wished them away to Atlantis. This time, however, they were the only people about. Twist heard voices in the gypsy camp behind him, safe inside the magical circle.
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