Circle of Ashes (Wish Quartet Book 2)

by Elise Kova

  “Your machine did exactly what it was supposed to. This is just a stupid politician’s fault for thinking that he knows better—his pride knows better—than actual science, not yours,” Jo said, placing both of her hands over Samson’s and doing her best to keep her voice steady. Confidence was beyond her at this point, but she could at least get the words out and make sure Samson knew that this wasn’t his fault. If anything, this was the prime minister’s.

  Or hers.

  “I failed, I. . . I could have. . . I could have done better, I—” Samson stammered, hands shaking beneath hers. Somewhere behind her, Jo heard a sound of frustration, probably from Wayne.

  “We’ll think of something else. We’ll find a different way to convince everyone. We’ll come up with a Plan C or—”

  “Plan C? Are you joshing with us, dollface?” Wayne bit out, and the coldness in his tone made Jo cringe. For the first time since her first few days in the Society, the sound of his nickname for her left a bitter taste on the back of her tongue.

  “We only have two weeks left,” Nico said into the tense quiet that followed. Jo’s heart ached at the sound of defeat in his voice, but she couldn’t deny the claim. When Jo looked over at the Italian, his eyes were shining, lost. Takako had stopped shaking, but she still hadn’t lifted her head from her hands.

  “So then we have time,” Jo tried, but Eslar just shook his head. “It’s something.”

  “That’s two weeks until the incident itself. If we plan to get everyone evacuated in time, that barely gives us—”

  “From our initial assessments, forty-eight hours.” Takako’s voice was muffled from behind her hands, but even so, Jo could hear the scratch in it. It was the sound of someone desperately trying not to scream, or cry, or most likely some mix of both.

  Forty-eight hours. They only had two days left.

  What sort of Plan C could they come up with in that time? Despite how Jo’s mind raced, it already felt like a losing battle. Like pushing a boulder uphill just waiting for the eventuality of her foot slipping, her strength crumbling, and the boulder crushing her beneath its inevitable roll back down.

  “We’ll think of something,” Jo eventually whispered, but even she could hear the lack of conviction in her own words. We have no choice.

  “Takako, wait!” Nico was suddenly on his feet, startling everyone out of their thoughts. By the time Jo followed Nico’s stare to the Four-Way, Takako had already stormed off in the direction of the briefing room in an almost exact mirror to how the whole wish had begun.

  Jo was torn, instinct telling her to stay with her team (with Samson, specifically), but when she caught the craftsman’s eyes, he seemed to have found his resolve. He didn’t say anything, just motioned towards the hall with his chin.

  Jo was on her feet and following Takako at once.

  Before anyone could object, Jo glanced back over her shoulder. “Start thinking up a plan,” she called, already half-turned back around. “I’ll be back with Takako as soon as I can.”

  Chapter 24

  Target Practice

  JO SKIDDED TO a stop, pin wheeling her arms and struggling to keep her balance as she bounded through the doors to the briefing room behind Takako.

  Awkwardly, she gripped a chair for balance, panting softly. How Takako had managed to cross the mansion without so much as breathing heavy, Jo did not know. But there she stood, poised and still, right in front of the Door. Her dark eyes searched Jo, the only thing that betrayed any sort of emotion in her otherwise rigid pose.

  “Takako. . .” Jo’s words failed her. What was she really going to say to her? What could she say? “Where are you headed?”

  “Trying to stop me again?” Takako looked back to the Door, as if contemplating making a run for it.

  “No, not this time,” Jo said softly. Her voice was barely more than a whisper and her resolve just as thin and fragile “Why would I be?” She folded her arms over the top of the chair, sinking into the back. Jo rested her chin on her forearms and stared listlessly at the room.

  “Trying to get me to go back and help with the wish then?”

  “I probably should,” Jo admitted. “But I don’t have any ideas, do you?”

  Takako shook her head.

  “Then, let’s go wherever you were headed,” Jo suggested. It was pointless, but perhaps they both needed some pointless right about now. Perhaps she’d headed after Takako because she, too, was looking for a momentary escape. It was all she seemed to do these days—slave over the wish, or run as fast as she could away from it.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Look, the way I figure, it’s not like you’re leaving forever because you can’t. Neither can I. Snow isn’t here to stop you this time, either. What’s an hour?”

  “One forty-eighth of what we have left?”

  Well, that was a grim way of looking at it.

  “Perhaps it’ll be an hour well spent, gaining inspiration from the outside world. Nico and I went out earlier and it actually did me a surprising amount of good. People aren’t meant to be cooped up in one place for so long.” Jo paused, following Takako’s line of sight to the double doors behind her. “Unless you’d actually rather head back to the common room?”

  Takako’s fingers flew over the keypad faster than Jo could blink.

  Jo quickly crossed to her side with a few large steps, barely making it in time to be yanked by her navel through the Door and out into the real world.

  The first thing she noticed was the nothingness. And not “nothing” like small town nothing. But “nothing” as in she would not be surprised to discover that they had somehow accidentally landed on Mars. As far as she could see were red rocks, rusty colored rocks, and more dark-brownish rocks. Jo turned, trying to get her bearing.

  The land sloped upward, cresting at an edge with a sky bluer than she’d ever seen above. In the distance, she could make out the outline of some kind of rudimentary structure erected on the apex of a ledge. But there was little else.

  The second thing Jo noticed was the wind. It howled around her, giving her skin a phantom chill. Even without being clocked into time, Jo knew that she was somewhere very, very cold.

  “Where are we?” she asked.

  Takako could hear her fine; the muted sensations in their ghost-like state assisted with communication in the barren landscape. “The summit of Mt. Fuji.”

  Jo did another quick 360, taking it all in. Tell-tale porous rocks sloped like some kind of bowl. An uninhabited and very high place. Everything that had confused her suddenly made a load of sense.

  “So this is it, huh?” Jo shoved her hands into her pockets. “Kind of anticlimactic.” Her words were bitter, angry. “Too bad we can’t just kill it here and now. Take it out like a mobster gone rogue.”

  “Funny you should say that.” Takako pulled out her phone, tapping the screen. Jo watched as time flowed for her. The wind whipped her hair and clothing, stretching it over her narrow, muscular frame. She shivered, but it looked more like shaking off the expectation of warmth and hardening herself against the cold than really feeling the chill.

  Takako reached into her jacket, producing a handgun. It was the same weapon that Jo had seen her pull on Snow before they’d even begun the wish. Jo wouldn’t exactly be surprised to learn that it was something she kept on her at all times.

  “What’re you doing?” Jo crossed over to her.

  “I’m going to shoot it.”

  “Shoot what?” Jo grabbed her wrist. “The mountain?”

  “Yes,” Takako said it as though the fact should’ve been obvious. It had not been obvious.

  “What do you hope that will accomplish?”

  “You said it yourself, let’s see if we can just take it out.”

  “But—”

  “Has not shooting it worked?”

  Jo’s grip went slack. Why was she trying to stop her? The likelihood of shooting at the caldera doing anything (good or bad) was almost nonexistent. So why
did it matter?

  “No, it hasn’t.” Jo shrugged, finally taking a step back.

  Takako’s arms outstretched with laser-like precision and her finger squeezed the trigger.

  The gunshot echoed across the entire summit, piercingly loud. It was quickly followed by another, and another, and another, until a shout rose to meet the final bullet.

  The clip empty, she put the gun back into her jacket, tapped her phone, and sank to the ground. Jo eased herself down slowly next to her, as if trying not to startle a wild animal. Takako panted softly, eyes red and glossy.

  “Maybe it is as simple as shooting something,” Takako murmured.

  “I don’t know, the mountain doesn’t look very dead to me.” Jo didn’t quite hear the severity in Takako’s voice.

  “No. . . I could kill him,” she whispered.

  “Who?”

  “The prime minister.” Takako looked to her, horror creeping onto her face. For a woman who’d given up her entire world for the sake of her country, Jo couldn’t imagine what such a suggestion took to make. Jo couldn’t even fathom what it felt like to be loyal like that to a country; she’d always been work-for-hire to the highest bidder.

  “That isn’t a solution.” She decided to save Takako from that line of thinking. “It’s a power squabble. Kill one and two more will rise up to fight over the scraps. Plus, the assassination would likely widen the Severity of Exchange, not lower it by throwing the country into sudden chaos. Everyone would focus on the death of their leader rather than keeping the discussion on the evacuations.”

  “You’re right,” Takako admitted, her breath growing regular once more. “I just. I wish I could do something. It’s my family, my home. All I’m good for is pointing and shooting.”

  The confession, said almost offhandedly, startled her. It was such a similar feeling to what Jo had experienced during her first wish in the Society that she instantly felt a kinship with the woman that she hadn’t before. Jo linked their arms, locking elbows.

  “Let us take care of you, this time,” she said, trying to will as much comfort and confidence into the words as she had to spare. But really, beyond all else, she just silently hoped they could.

  “I’ll leave it to you.” Takako didn’t make any motion away from her.

  “But I’ll grant you, it’d be nice to see if a bullet could even penetrate the PM’s thick skull,” Jo muttered.

  Takako laughed, a sound as brief as it was soft. She looked back over the caldera, sighing, the levity unable to stick in the circumstances. “Do you really think we can do it?”

  “We have to.” Jo followed her gaze. “I don’t think any of us are ready to accept failure.”

  Chapter 25

  Twelve Hours

  EVENTUALLY, THEY PULLED themselves back to their feet and through the autonomous, free-standing steel Door that led to the briefing room. It shouldn’t have been much of a surprise to find everyone seated around the table, presumably waiting for them to return, but it still made Jo bristle nonetheless.

  Before Snow or anyone else could say anything about them wasting time, Jo dropped into her seat with an overly dramatic huff.

  “I know we didn’t clear it with team mom first.” Jo shot a glance to Eslar. “But I didn’t use any time and Takako barely used two minutes, so there’s nothing to worry about, all right?”

  Snow wasn’t the only one who seemed surprised by her outburst, but he was the only one she locked eyes with, willing him to argue, to fight. But mostly she was just hoping to see a crack in his otherwise carefully constructed facade.

  It hadn’t even been hours since she’d been lying in his bed, reveling in the feel of his arms around her, his lips against hers. How had everything gone to shit so quickly? When a momentary stare-off provided barely more than a flicker of recognition from the man, Jo looked away, feeling something cold and heavy drop into the pit of her stomach.

  Maybe this was what Wayne had been trying to warn her about? Pursuing the possibility of romance with any member of the Society was only going to complicate things, and Snow? It was an infinitely trickier balance. She couldn’t hold onto him now with the same emotional grip she’d clutched him with in bed. She had to pull herself together and draw some demarcation lines in her mind and heart or things would go from merely complex to ugly, fast.

  “Even if your moments beyond the Door were without lost time—” Snow eventually picked up the pre-derailed conversation and put them back on track. “I assume it was also without purpose. What we need more than tantrums is a course of action.”

  Jo opened her mouth to defend their spontaneous field trip, but one look from Takako kept her silent. She didn’t look chastised, nor regretful, but rather accepting of her decision. Swallowing back her argument, Jo nodded, trying her best to accept the fact herself: Takako was truly a mature and admirable individual to be composed, even when hurting so completely and being chastised for merely letting out some of that pain.

  “Fine, fine, okay,” Jo said, sitting up straight and looking at each member of her team in turn. They hadn’t failed yet; there could still be a missing piece to the jigsaw puzzle hidden beneath the great, despair-shaped couch cushions. . . or something. They just couldn’t give up hope, couldn’t stop searching. “So what have we done so far? And what can we do different in forty-eight hours?”

  “Both very good questions.”

  When all eyes followed the interjection to the double doors of the briefing room, it was to find Pan leaning against the frame, fingers linked behind her head and feet crossed lazily at the ankles.

  “Time’s a ticking, you know,” she said, using one of her knuckles to tap a rhythm against the wood that seemed eerily accurate to the width of a precise second. “What exactly are you going to do?”

  Pan let her hands drop then, turning towards the room with a flutter of long, obnoxiously bright pink fabrics. And the dress wasn’t the only thing bright and obnoxious about her ensemble today. Beneath the dress were blue- and purple-striped hose cut off at the knee by white gogo boots, and atop her head, her hair sat in two elaborately curled pigtails dyed an unnaturally iridescent gold.

  The contrast of such bright colors intermingling with such a somber conversation left Jo feeling almost disjointed, off-kilter, and particularly annoyed. Not just for the unwelcome presence, but for the teasing lilt of Pan’s voice, the obvious smirk on her lips. How she’d managed to put herself together in such a way eluded Jo. What made it all worse, was that she didn’t exactly look like someone trying to update them on their time; she looked like someone eager to gloat over just how little they had left.

  Or, gloat over that she’d known what had been coming all along, a tiny and very suspicious voice whispered in the back of Jo’s mind. But such a thing was impossible. . . at least, Jo thought it was impossible.

  “So?” Pan raised an eyebrow at the room, though her gaze seemed to settle lazily on Jo for a moment. Maybe she just imagined it, but either way, it left Jo’s pulse racing.

  “Just because the prime minister shed doubt on the findings doesn’t make them any less true.” Wayne picked them back up before Pan could rile them further. Though Jo didn’t miss the way the woman-child’s smirk morphed into a rather uncomfortable looking grin as the conversation resumed. “The populace, and more importantly the scientists, still have their proof. Can’t just brush that under the rug, right? The news pundits are already picking up on the fact, calling out the PM for what he’s doing.”

  “In essence, we’re not dealing with scientific findings anymore,” Jo chimed in, following his train of thought and trying desperately to ignore the way Pan settled herself elegantly into her seat, watching them all with an intrigue bordering on sly amusement. “We’re dealing with public knowledge?”

  “We already tried convincing the country,” Samson added, voice small and unsure, but trying. Everyone was trying. “But that didn’t work out so well. . . Plus, they’re on our side, right? Because of that proof
?” He seemed to need to talk himself in a circle in order to spiral towards a conclusion. “So, so, maybe we don’t need to convince them anymore. Maybe we only need to focus on one person now.”

  “Samson’s right.” Eslar nodded in agreement. “This isn’t about the populace at all anymore; it’s about the prime minister. No matter the proof, no matter the number of citizens who believe, if he continues to deny scientific claims, we have no evacuation.”

  “I can convince him.” Nico punctuated the claim by instantly rising to his feet. He looked around the room, even locking eyes momentarily with Pan, but his gaze eventually settled on Snow. His expression was determined, a confidence in his eyes that Jo had never seen before, though she found she wasn’t surprised by it.

  While the two men had their mental discussion, the rest of the table focused on Nico.

  “Are you sure?” Eslar asked hesitantly.

  “I am,” Nico answered with more strength to his voice than Jo had ever heard.

  “You’re nuts. . .” Wayne trailed off in disbelief with a shake of his head. “You’ll have, what? Fifteen hours to finish with enough time to get it to him?”

  “I’d recommend no more than twelve,” Pan said, lazily investigating her nails.

  “I can do it.” Nico continued to speak right to Snow, as though he had been the one asking the question.

  Snow returned the Italian’s gaze for a long moment before motioning towards the doors with his chin. “Then go.”

  Just as quickly as the claim had been made, Nico nodded and left. “Will twelve hours really be enough?” Jo murmured to no one in particular. And yet her focus drifted from the doors to their leader. She caught a glimpse of sadness, of something like worry etching Snow’s face. But when he caught her staring, he didn’t look away—simply held her gaze, face open and the makings of a tired smile forming before his mask fell back into place once more.