Blood

by Emily Thompson

  “How’re the mai tais?” Jonas asked, sitting down in the last open chair at the table, next to Twist, with his own umbrella-adorned drink.

  “Not as good as they make in Waikiki,” Twist answered. “What is the point of this, by the way?” he asked, tapping his tiny paper umbrella.

  Jonas gave a shrug. He took a sip of his own drink and made a tone.

  “You’re right. It’s not nearly as good. But serviceable.”

  “This is our friend, Jonas,” Myra said pleasantly to the couple.

  “Nice to meet you,” he said to the couple, keeping his eyes well clear of them both.

  “I’m Pablo,” the man said, shaking Jonas’s hand over the table. “This is my wife, Carmine,” he added. She gave Jonas a polite nod. Jonas returned it.

  “They’re the reason the ship is going all the way to Rio,” Myra added to Jonas.

  “Thanks for that,” Jonas offered. “We’ll be going all the way with you.”

  “Yes, she said you’re off to Africa,” Carmine mentioned with an impressed tone to her voice.

  “Because I want to see the monkeys,” Myra said to Jonas, as if finishing the thought.

  Jonas glanced at Twist, who gave him back a very light smile.

  “Anything for you, princess,” Jonas said back to Myra with a grin. “Here,” he said, plucking the umbrella out of his drink, “have some abject silliness.” He shook off the last drop of liquid from its tip and handed it to Myra.

  “Oh, how darling,” she cooed, twirling it between her thumb and finger.

  “Here, have two,” Twist said, handing her his as well. Myra took it and held them both up to compare the colors while Pablo and Carmine watched her with enchanted smiles.

  “Is Skye still out there on the…you know…” Twist asked darkly.

  “Afraid so,” Jonas said gravely. “That woman seems to be addicted to danger.”

  “But they said it was safe to sit on the net,” Myra said, sounding a bit confused.

  “‘Safe’ is a relative term,” Twist muttered.

  “But seriously,” Jonas went on, “the girl throws herself into every available danger in sight. And happily, as well. It’s not natural, I tell you.”

  “Who is this?” Pablo asked seriously.

  “You sound like my dad,” Skye said, stepping up to the table. Twist turned instantly, startled to find her in earshot. Skye put her hands on her hips and gave Jonas a narrow-eyed stare, which he seemed to feel despite the fact that he didn’t look up to see it. Myra gestured to Skye, for Pablo’s benefit. He and his wife looked up to Skye with confusion in their eyes again.

  “Your dad sounds like a reasonable chap,” Jonas said flatly.

  “He’s a circus performer, not a sky pirate,” Skye said smugly. “I don’t think he’d approve of you one bit, sweetheart.”

  A sly smirk spread over Jonas’s face. “The fathers of pretty young ladies never approve of me.”

  Carmine shot him a startled glance. Skye laughed, while Twist only sighed and shook his head.

  “Aw, you think I’m pretty?” Skye cooed with forced brightness, clasping her hands together tightly.

  “Oh!” Pablo said suddenly. “You’re a lady. I’m so sorry. With those clothes, I didn’t realize,” he said, getting to his feet. “Please, have my seat.”

  Skye shook her head. “Nah, I’m fine. Thanks, though.”

  Without another word, she sat herself down on Jonas’s knee, as if it were a perfectly ordinary place to sit. Jonas snapped his eyes closed but made no verbal complaint. Once she was comfortable, one arm hung across his neck, Skye picked up Jonas’s mai tai and took a sip of it. Twist stared at this brazenly casual display with mild distaste. Carmine’s mouth hung open slightly behind her fingers, while Pablo slowly retook his seat in stunned silence.

  “Oh,” Skye said, putting the drink down again with a sour expression. “Not as good as Waikiki, is it?” she asked in a hushed tone.

  “Do I look like a chair to you, love?” Jonas asked, tight lipped.

  “Hush,” Skye said dismissively. “Loads of people wouldn’t complain about a pretty young lady sitting on their lap.”

  Pablo gave a prudish cough.

  “You’re nothing like any lady I’ve ever met,” Jonas shot back.

  “Watch it, you. I’m too close to fend off.” She leaned her lips closer to his ear. “And I know where you’re ticklish.”

  Twist felt a hot surge in the buzz at his neck and reached up to rub it away. Carmine’s eyes, watching Skye, had turned cold and sharp.

  “Why, Skye,” Jonas said sweetly, pulling his opaque black goggles down from his brow to cover his eyes, “you’re the prettiest young lady I’ve never seen.” He turned his wide smile up to her, staring blindly.

  Skye smiled from inches away and patted the top of his head. “Good boy.”

  Now apparently pleased with Jonas’s submission, Skye turned to speak casually to Myra. While Myra happily recounted what Pablo and Carmine had already told her about Brazil, Twist noticed a strange dichotomy in Jonas. Although the easy smile never left his face, and he made no obvious protests to continuing to be used as a seat, Twist felt a subtle, nagging unease in the buzzing at his own neck. More than once during the conversation with the Brazilians, Jonas’s late replies and infrequent comments showed that his mind was miles away.

  “Are you sure about this?” Twist asked softly, watching Myra check the edges of the scissors for sharpness.

  “What do you mean, dear?” she asked back as she selected a comb.

  “Well, it’s just…” Twist muttered, “I usually just take care of it myself, you see. It’s really no trouble.”

  “But that’s only because you couldn’t let the barber touch you,” Myra said lightly, stepping behind his chair.

  Twist looked into the mirror on the vanity before him, in the narrow little cabin that he and Jonas would share until the ship reached Rio, and found growing hesitation in his own chilly blue eyes. His hair wasn’t really all that long, he mused. It wasn’t on his shoulders yet, anyway. The tight curl kept it looking short, most of the time, no matter the actual length. A quick trim had always done fine for him, and there had never been any call to let someone else take the scissors. Myra glanced at his face in the mirror and gave him a smile.

  “Oh, do relax, darling,” she said sweetly. “It’s not going to hurt.”

  “I know that.”

  Myra began to comb at the hair near his neck. “Are you afraid I’ll make you ugly?” she asked, her shining jewel eyes on her work.

  Twist glanced off of her reflection, looking idly at the two hammocks that hung over each other against the back wall of the little room. The last light of the day was pouring in through the single round window in the wall to his left. “No, no…of course not.”

  “Then whatever is the trouble?” she asked, light as chiffon.

  Twist heard the scissors slide closed and felt the tug at his hair. He snapped his eyes closed.

  “There seems to be an endless supply of things that I’m simply not used to,” he said tightly, struggling to calm himself.

  “Well, let’s see,” Myra said as Twist continued to follow her motions with every fiber of his taut attention, “you’ve rescued a princess—more than once, you know—thwarted many a fiendish villain, and slayed a nasty dra—”

  Twist braced for an uncomfortable shiver to slide over his skin at the mention of the word “dragon,” but Myra stopped herself in time. He silently let out his held breath when nothing happened this time. Although Myra and Jonas both tried not to say the word “dragon” in Twist’s presence, to save him from the uncontrollable reaction, they sometimes still misspoke, and he’d learned to brace just in case.

  “You slayed a nasty, scaly beast, I mean,” Myra went on sweetly as she turned her attention back to his hair. “You’ve also seen much of the world, made very powerful and interesting friends, and bested a fox in a sword fight—very dashingly, I might add.�
�

  “Yes, yes, I know all that…”

  “Surely a simple little haircut can’t prove to be too much of a challenge for an intrepid man such as yourself.”

  Twist looked up to find a proud smile on the reflection of her gleaming copper face. “My dear, I fear your pride in me is becoming unseemly.”

  “Hush,” she said, catching his eye with a wicked light in her own. “I’m only stating the facts. I can’t help it if you’re wonderful.”

  A sick feeling churned gently in his stomach at this overexaggerated praise, but Myra’s copper fingers brushed the edge of his neck, filling his Sight with sparkling delight as she focused again on her task. Twist gave a sigh and shut his eyes again. He kept his breathing low and full and waited as patiently as he could for her to finish. Tiny flecks of her sunny emotions fell over him in gentle waves as her fingers moved through his hair. To his surprise, it wasn’t long at all before she moved her hands away to inspect her work.

  “There,” she said brightly. “How is that?”

  Twist opened his eyes to find his curls neatly trimmed into a reasonably innocuous shape—fully clear of his neck now but still long enough to curl loosely on top—while Myra looked him over with satisfaction. He turned his head to inspect it from another angle, when something else in the mirror caught his eye: the shadow of a man behind him.

  He spun instantly, searching the thin shadows under the hammocks as his heartbeat leaped into high speed, but he saw no one there. Myra jerked in surprise at his quick motion. Twist looked back to the mirror. He peered carefully into the glass but couldn’t find a single trace of anyone else in the room now. Glancing to his right, he saw that the door was still closed. How could it have even opened without him hearing it? There didn’t seem to be anything that could have created the image he’d seen…

  “What was that?” Myra asked, glancing to the empty wall behind Twist and then back to his face in the mirror.

  “Nothing,” Twist said, shaking his head and putting on a smile. “It was just a trick of the light.” He turned to face her. “Well, thank you very much, darling,” he said, taking her hands. Her warm thoughts calmed his heartbeat almost instantly, washing away the silly moment of fright completely. “Do you think I look better now?”

  “I think you look very smart,” she said, reaching up to shape a curl near his temple. “Do you like it? Should I make it shorter?”

  “No, no, I think it’s fine,” Twist said, glancing at the mirror once more. His eyes slid off to the empty wall again, but there was still nothing there.

  Dinner that night was served in the lounge. Simple sandwiches and tea were all that the small on-board kitchen could muster, but the quantity made up for any lack of selection. Since it was rather crowded in the lounge, Twist and his companions—and a handful of the off-duty crew—took their dinner out onto the moonlit deck. As they sat around a pile of sandwiches and a pot of tea in the low light and gentle breeze, Twist thought back to so many similar meals he’d had on his travels. He smiled to remember the warmth and comfort of some of those small moments.

  “Skye, I’ve been meaning to ask,” Jonas said, selecting a sandwich, “have you heard anything else from Aazzi?”

  Skye shook her head, putting her teacup down on the deck beside her. “Sorry, I haven’t. I keep checking, but there’s no news from Sierra Leone. All everyone’s talking about are dragons.”

  Twist gave a shudder as his skin prickled against the sound of the word. The others looked to him instantly.

  “Oh, sorry,” Skye said quickly.

  “It’s fine,” Twist said, rubbing at his arms to soothe the lingering feeling away. Myra rubbed at his back, spilling soft concern into his Sight.

  “Why are the Rooks talking about…” Jonas began, his eyes still on Twist. “Well, the big lizards, so much? I thought they all left the Earth.”

  “Yeah, but after they all took off in their ship, Aden sent his Rooks out to scour the world for information,” Skye answered. “Apparently, they found something in an old Incan temple just a few days ago. It’s a vial of drag—” She stopped short, glancing at Twist as he silently braced for the word. “I mean, it was a vial of big lizard blood, from what I hear.”

  “Wait,” Jonas said. “Do you mean a potion, or is this real blood?”

  “What potion?” Skye asked, appearing just as confused by his question as Twist felt.

  “There’s a potion that’s called…well, ‘lizard blood,’ but with the ‘d’ word. Gypsies use it for magic. It’s powerful stuff. But I didn’t think it was actual blood. I thought it was just a dramatic name.”

  “Oh,” Skye said, thinking again. “Well, I don’t know which one this is, but Aden was very excited to get his science guys to study it. But then someone stole it from the dig, just last night. It’s really weird. Usually, it’s not easy to steal from a Rook and get away with it.”

  “Yeah, you people are everywhere,” Jonas said, frowning at the thought. “You make unconventional crime damn hard sometimes.”

  “Well, good, ’cause that’s the point,” Skye said sharply.

  Jonas’s mouth twisted into a subtly distasteful shape.

  “But what use could blood be?” Twist asked. The very idea turned his stomach. “Especially if it’s not just a potion.”

  “I don’t get the science,” Skye said. “And it was in that tomb for a really long time, as well. But the weirdest thing about the whole incident is that they never said anything about finding it in the first place, outside of Rook channels. And normal thieves wouldn’t know it was valuable. But on the other hand, everyone who was working on the dig was legit, so it wasn’t an inside job.”

  “Maybe the person who took it was already looking for it,” Myra offered. “Maybe it was another group of scientists.”

  “If that’s true, then it’s most likely Cyphers,” Skye said darkly. “But you might be right. Either way, whoever took it must have already known what it was.”

  “Well, it’ll turn up,” Jonas said with a shrug. “Strange magical stuff always does.”

  “True,” Skye said, nodding. “I’ll keep checking for any more info on Aazzi, though. At this point, I’m sure no news is good news.”

  Jonas nodded, his eyes down. “We’ll get there in a few more days. I just hope that she and Phil can hold out that long.”

  “Logically, she wouldn’t have called for you if they were in imminent danger,” Twist pointed out. “Whatever is going on, she must have thought there was time to call for help.”

  “Aazzi is very clever,” Myra added brightly.

  “Yeah,” Jonas toned, a slight smile at the edge of his dark expression.

  “At least you know Arabel is all right,” Twist added. Jonas had told him once that he’d seen a vision of Arabel’s future, when she would be much older than she was now.

  Jonas’s gaze snapped up to meet Twist’s, filled with an uncomfortable energy. Twist’s fear rose instantly; he’d said too much. Jonas hadn’t mentioned seeing Arabel’s death in the vision he’d had of her future, but knowing Jonas’s Sight, it was more likely than not a bittersweet image for him. Besides, Twist knew that Jonas hated speaking about his future visions.

  “What, is that a twin thing?” Skye asked, looking between them in confusion.

  “Something like that,” Twist lied with a forced smile.

  Skye looked at him suspiciously.

  Jonas shook his head. “Yeah,” he said much more convincingly, looking away to snatch another sandwich. “It’s a twin thing. Did anyone grab the sugar?” he asked, glancing over the deck.

  “Right here,” Myra said, holding up a sugar bowl and holding out an expectant hand to him. “More tea?”

  Twist sighed silently. Maybe someday he would learn how to toss off unwanted questions as easily as Jonas did.

  “Thanks,” Jonas said, eyeing her suspiciously as she leaned over to take his teacup. “But since when do you make things for me? I thought Twist was the only o
ne you took care of.”

  “You’re growing on me,” she said, handing him back his cup. “Slowly, though,” she added with a serious tone.

  Twist laughed under his breath.

  “Myra, you are truly a tolerant soul,” Jonas said with a grin. Myra made a face at him, making Skye and Twist laugh.

  Before long, the conversation drifted into wholly pleasant and impersonal realms, as if relaxing into its true form. Twist marveled to watch his friends talk and joke together in such a comfortable space. To his renewed delight and surprise, he seemed to fit perfectly among them. Unlike the constant tension that he’d found aboard the Vimana, he imagined that this was what it must actually be like to be a part of a family. He reveled in the forbidden notion and tried to soak in every bit of it.

  Twist lay in his hammock, bundled up in his blankets and drowned in the deepest stillness of the night. He was only vaguely aware that he wasn’t fully asleep, when his drowsy eyes opened by themselves. The room wasn’t as black as it had been before. Ghostly silver light reached in through the porthole to linger on the edge of the dressing table, on the bare wall, on the empty glass of the mirror. Jonas’s soft breath and the tick of Twist’s pocket watch, tucked under the edge of his pillow, were the only sounds in the depthless silence of the sky. Twist closed his eyes again and took a long, slow breath as he waited for sleep to take him back.

  A sudden sound—the high whine of something sharp scratching at glass—startled him. Twist opened his eyes again and looked at the porthole window, but there was only the dim, pale blue of the hour just before sunrise outside. Supposing it must have been his imagination, Twist put his head back on his pillow. Then his eyes fell on the mirror above the dressing table, and his heart shuddered in his chest.

  There was a man grinning at him in the reflection of the mirror, but there was no one in the room to cast the image. While Twist’s sleepy mind struggled to reconcile this impossibility, a small part of him worked to identify the man. In a flash, he suddenly recognized the human form of the blue dragon he had slain in Japan.