by Ashley Meira
It wasn’t until I’d gone through another four stacks of papers thick enough to make the Harry Potter books feel anorexic that I was finally, officially granted my freedom. I felt every possible set of eyes in the Inquisitors’ HQ trained on me as I took the final steps toward the double doors that led out to Santa Fae. Instinct forced my hand to my side, but there was nothing for my fingers to grasp.
Which was probably a good thing for the clerk approaching me with a clipboard of papers seemingly begging for my signature. He held the board up meekly, his arms slightly shaky as he struggled to maintain eye contact. “Release form for your effects. Final ones, I promise.”
I wasn’t inclined to believe him, but my hip was practically weeping for the comforting touch of my blade. The pen he handed me barely worked, but it gave me the chance to work out some frustration as I stabbed out my initials against the pages.
My reward was a bag thrust into my arms by a frowning Inquisitor, who jerked his chin forward. “Bathroom is back there. Get changed, then you can pick up your effects at the front desk.”
I eyed the polished desk standing less than ten feet away with barely contained anticipation, but decided to take his advice. No way I was going outside dressed in an obnoxious orange jumpsuit.
I half expected the stall doors to scowl at me as I walked past them, but the pieces of wood proved to be a lot friendlier than the people outside. I’d been given multiple sets of clothing in prison, but this was the first time in a month that I’d felt so refreshed after changing — and I didn’t even get to shower. That was the first thing I’d take care of when I exited this hellhole.
Memories of Gadot and our final fight flashed behind my eyelids as I stared at my reflection. I’d been arrested just after that, so the clothing from that fight was what they’d confiscated. Though considering the horror show the fight had been, “clothing” wasn’t the right word. Gadot’s spiked roots had rendered my shirt and jeans into little more than strips of mud-soaked cloth. I frowned and sniffed myself. Urgh, gross. Add drenched in sweat to that description.
At least my boots were okay. And by okay, I meant the soles hadn’t totally peeled off. Or maybe they had and the dried mud was keeping everything glued together. Maybe the jumpsuit wasn’t a bad idea.
I glanced at the neon reminder of the last thirty-eight days.
Never mind.
The strips of jean below my knees ripped away with ease, and I managed to tear off the dangling parts of my shirt without much fuss. The result left me with shredded mid-thigh shorts and what may as well have been an ill-fitting sports bra, but at least I didn’t look like I’d gone head to head with a rabid wolverine anymore.
Mostly.
“Another reason to head home ASAP,” I mumbled to my ramshackle reflection.
The stares came back in full force the moment I exited the bathroom. Surprised they hadn’t sent someone with me while I changed. Small blessings, I guess. The meek clerk was waiting by the reception, my sword and a small box in his hands. I took the blade before he could even open his mouth and strapped it to my waist, holding back the sigh of relief that came with my weapon’s familiar weight. Figuring words were overrated, the clerk held up the small box next.
Its contents made my stomach flip. My rings. Communication, sword, lightstone…. They were all here, but it was the ruby ring that I reached for first. With my powers gone, this was the only link I had left to my past — the mysterious heirloom had brought me comfort in darker times.
I slipped it onto my left thumb, relishing the feeling of cool platinum against my scraped knuckles. My other rings were applied with as much reverence as I allowed myself a moment of peace to slip back into normalcy. The bands were a little loose, but not enough to slip off. Fortunately, my phone still fit perfectly in my pocket, though the battery had long since died.
As I was equipping myself, the clerk began speaking again. His words were practiced and lacked the spark they had likely held at the beginning of his career. He warned me that my movements would be monitored for a probationary period and that I shouldn’t leave the city without alerting Council authorities. I nodded along with his words while wearing my best “I’m listening” face and tried not to scream at him to let me go.
Once he seemed satisfied I wasn’t going to murder everyone in sight the moment I stepped outside, the clerk nodded and moved to open the door. “Enjoy your freedom, Ms. Sinclair. May we never meet again.”
I used to think that phrase was condescending, but now it made perfect sense. I gave him the first genuine smile I’d had all day and practically skipped out the door into the streets of Santa Fae.
“Oh god, what the hell is this?”
I stopped two steps outside the front doors and stared at the crowded streets in horror. My cell had been cold and wet. In fact, the Black Citadel maintained a rather cool temperature throughout the entire compound. Not cold enough to make anyone sick, but enough that no one was sweating — and that the prisoners on the lower floors felt a bite. The Inquisitor’s headquarters had also been air-conditioned, carrying a far more comfortable breeze than the chill of the Black Citadel’s portal room.
But this?
This was sheer hell.
My nose scrunched up at the perspiration gathering on my palms, and I harshly wiped my hands on my shorts. A drop of sweat grazed the back of neck only to be swatted away by a now twice as moist hand.
No wonder Fiona always dressed in shorts and a tank top — and why she complained constantly when she had to cover up. To me, the only good thing about being Fireborn had always been my immunity to the effects of temperature — a sentiment that this sweltering heat solidified to an unimaginable degree.
“I almost regret saving Charlotte,” I muttered, swallowing thickly to soothe the dryness in my throat. “Nothing is worth giving up an immunity to this.”
I pulled my hair back from my face, holding it in a ponytail with my right hand. I needed to get home immediately. Home, drink a gallon of water, take a shower — an ice shower — then either tie my hair up or chop it all off. From here, I’d have to walk west for at least twenty minutes to get home. The thought filled me with dread, but the idea of being stuck in a bus packed with dozens of sweaty bodies was even worse. Before I could even take a step toward my destination, however, another complication arose.
My stomach growled, the echo so loud people around me turned to stare.
Fuck. I needed food. Now. Unless things turned upside down in the time I was gone, there wouldn’t be anything edible at home except popcorn. I needed more than that. I could order takeout… but I’d need to wait until my phone was charged. And I had no money on me, either way. Damn it.
I peered down the street at the lamppost on the far corner. Ollie’s cafe was only a block away. I could go there first. He had food — and air conditioning. But it sure as hell wasn’t the reunion I’d been imagining. At the very least, I expected to smell slightly better than soggy old socks.
Another deafening gurgle made the decision for me. I spun on my heel and marched toward the Golden Cat Cafe.
Chapter Six
If anyone asked, I’d claim the mistiness in my eyes was from the sun. It had nothing to do with seeing my home away from home again after such a long absence — and it certainly had nothing to do with the smell of freshly baked muffins and chicken pot pies.
What was missing as I stepped through the door was the scent of fresh laundry and the taste of apple cider on my tongue. Ollie’s magic was nowhere to be sensed, and the green witch himself was nowhere to be seen. I was sure he was around somewhere, though. It wasn’t his day off. Still, I couldn’t shake off the renewed melancholy at how limited my world was now. It was like losing a limb.
Anna, Ollie’s assistant, straightened up at my entrance. Her gray eyes widened before she dashed into the kitchen, the sound of crashing pans following after her.
I stood in the middle of the cafe like an awkward giraffe. Was I supposed to wait h
ere to greet Ollie or take a seat? What was the decorum for situations like these?
The looks didn’t help. Eyes bore down on me for the third time today, but I still hadn’t learned to find the charm in it. The last time I’d seen these people — or the ones that made up Ollie’s regular crowd, anyway — they’d banded together to keep the paparazzi off my back. Now, they were staring at me like I’d grown a second head.
It usually made the news when Fireborns were arrested, but the information stopped there. No names, pictures, or locations were ever mentioned. So, they couldn’t know. Could they? Had some particularly nosy reporter dug deep and found something? Was that why they were staring? Did they know my secret?
My former secret. I wasn’t Fireborn anymore, I reminded myself bitterly. Not that a proof of innocence would would wipe away the effects of the initial accusation.
My mind shifted through reasons why everyone would be staring at me, desperate to find an alternate explanation — my messed up clothes, my sweat-mussed hair, my stench, the fact that I was standing in the middle of the cafe…. Maybe they were just surprised to see me after so long. I was here almost every day, then I suddenly vanished for a month. That made sense, right?
Whatever answer I may have settled on was lost to the void when the kitchen doors slammed opened and a wide-eyed Ollie burst out. He was an orange blur as he came toward me. The solid impact made me knees wobble, but I was able to hold us both up.
Ollie pulled back to look me over before sputtering out a few sounds and turning to Anna. “Call Fiona!”
I watched Anna scurry to the phone in the corner before everything blurred as I was pulled to a booth in the corner. “Ollie—”
“By the Allfather!” He pounded my arm with his fists, which would have meant more if he didn’t have the upper body strength of a magpie. The fact that he referred to the Allfather, a goblin deity, told me he meant business, though. “You go off to England and a week later you’re in prison? And I had to hear this third hand?! Then, I find out you can’t visit people who are suspected—” He cut off sharply, his freckled cheeks puffed out in frustration. “Then, I find out you’re being released two days ago? You couldn’t call?! Are you so allergic to giving me peace of mind?”
“You’re turning into your mother.”
A ruddy hue overwhelmed his cheeks and if he wasn’t afraid of getting hit back, he might have decked me. “Normally, I’d ban you from my cooking for that comment, but you look like you’ve been dieting for Miss Magic, so you when we’re done catching up, I’m going to give you so much food you’ll feel like you’re going to explode. But once you’re back to fighting weight, you’re banned for a month.”
“You’ve really mastered that eerily calm voice,” I said, holding his gaze. He was bluffing. Hopefully. “Also, they don’t allow phone calls in the Black Citadel. Not in my cell block, anyway. Why didn’t Adam tell you?”
“Because he’s always busy,” he huffed. “Mr. CEO can’t send his secretary or pick up his phone to deliver news like that. Don’t bother yelling at him about it — Fiona already ripped him a new one when she found out. He’s probably still deaf.”
“Heard there’s been a lot of activity with the Council.” Damn. Being in prison had ruined my already terrible social skills. I couldn’t even properly speak to my best friends anymore.
“Yeah. Bad stuff has been going on around here. Well, not here. In Asia. Big things.” He shook his head and reaffixed his matronly stare. “But you can ask Adam about that later. Tell me about you. How are you? What was prison like? Fiona told me about your magic…. Is it really gone? What does this mean? Are you a normal human now?” His rambling rose in pitch until he cut off with another cry to the Allfather as he pulled me back into his chest. “I was so terrified. We all were, and there was no news! Adam said you’d be okay, but even he didn’t seem sure. He always looks sure. Answer my questions, and when you’re done, I’m making you the biggest, most juicy steak ever.”
“Um,” I trailed off, taking a deep breath. I may not be able to feel the rhythm of his magic, but I didn’t need to. His heart was pounding against his chest, right by my ear, and his arms were trembling as he hugged me tight. My own arms wrapped around his torso and I squeezed him back, trying to keep my voice calm. “I’m tired, hungry, and in desperate need of a shower. Prison was…. Well, let’s just say I don’t plan on going back any time soon. Yes, it’s gone. I have no idea. It’ll take more than losing my magic to make me human… I think. Could you cover it in cheese, please?”
The deep sigh he let out made it clear my replies hadn’t satisfied him, but he gave me another hug and pressed a kiss to my cheek before standing up. “I’ll make you that steak. Then, you need to get home and shower. And change. What are you wearing?”
“Half of what I was wearing when I got arrested.”
“How—”
A flash of green flooded the cafe, followed by a mishmash of colors and swearing. I made out a glimpse of red underneath the pile of bodies that fell out of the portal. I made out three separate forms, but it was hard to tell with all the pushing and pulling.
“Get off me, you cows! I brought you into this place, I’ll take you out.”
“I’d like to see you try,” a deep, aristocratic voice drawled. Symeon’s pale hand peeked out from the pile as he pushed the other two bodies off him. Despite all the tumbling, his sleek navy blue suit was wrinkle-free and his long black hair didn’t have a strand out of place. “Buy me dinner first, though. That’s the least you could do for all this manhandling.”
“Since when was buying you dinner required before manhandling you?” Adam grumbled as he dusted himself off. Like Symeon, he was also dressed in a suit, though he filled it out in a much different way. They were both handsome, but there was something about the way the expensive material hugged Adam’s muscles whenever he moved. “Was that scene necessary, by the way? You could have called me.”
“Please,” Fiona scoffed, shooting both men a glare as she fixed her hair. “Like a phone call was going to pull you out of a Council meeting.”
“And I did not cause a scene,” Symeon said, frown still marring his face. I raised a brow. Symeon never frowned. Fiona must have ruined his entire day. “I simply walked in—”
“And caused a scene,” Adam said flatly. “Everything you do is a scene.”
Symeon arched a brow. “Then why didn’t you leave the moment I entered the meeting room and said your name? Honestly, you should have seen it coming.”
I watched them bicker for another few minutes with a sense of nostalgia — and the growing beginnings of a migraine. Ollie must’ve sensed it — thank goodness for his green witch gift — and told me to sit tight while he got my meal ready. I nodded and turned back to the show, trying to find out exactly what Symeon had done. If it had been anyone else, I wouldn’t think it was so bad. But Symeon? The man had no shame.
The little bell above the front door chimed, its usual pleasant ring drowned out by the sharp words of people I’d deny were my friends if anyone asked. Speaking of friends, the final piece of my little group just popped her head in. Her unimpressed, exasperated head.
She regarded the threesome with jaded eyes and said, “This is why I said I’d walk.”
Fiona whipped around. “Hey—”
“Sophia!” Adrienne’s ocean blue eyes widened and she rushed for me with a speed that put Ollie’s to shame.
The impact wasn’t as bad as when Ollie rushed toward me, but the extra three bodies that followed suit tipped the odds in her favor. My head hit the leather seat as my spleen tried not to burst under all the extra weight. A wave of sound assaulted me as Adrienne, Adam, Symeon, and Fiona all began speaking to me at once.
I managed to force out a few words through the enormous weight on top of me. “Get off me or you’re all dead.”
“Really,” Symeon said primly. “You’re all animals.”
“That is the most hypocritical thing I’ve ever he
ard you say,” Fiona told him with a glare.
One by one, they stood up and collected themselves. Symeon was the farthest way, his clothing as wrinkle-free as before. Maybe he hadn’t been in the doggy pile that had jumped me. In that case, one my friends really needed to lose weight.
Symeon rolled his shoulder in disinterest. “We don’t really speak.”
“We do,” Adam said. “Unfortunately. And I know that was your elbow pressing into my back.”
The siren’s brows shot up, and he gave Adam an amused smirk. “Dear boy, if I was on top of you, you’d know it.”
“Okay, gross.” I moved to straighten my clothes, then frowned when I realized they were too damaged to fix. “Prison food was less nauseating.”
“You missed me,” Symeon said. “More than the rest of them, I bet.”
“Sophia doesn’t need your business anymore,” Fiona said with a glare. “I will end you.”
“You’ll try — and fail. Then, your poor sister will be left with my dry cleaning bill.”
“I am not paying that bill,” I said. “I’ve seen it. Whatever dry cleaner you use overcharges you to an insane degree. My rent costs less.”
“You live in the poor part of town.”
“Middle-class, you snob.”
“See?” He smirked. “You missed me.”
“How does that—”
“Argh!” Fiona rolled her eyes and charged for me, wrapping her arms around my waist. “Ignore him. Welcome back! I was about ready to storm the damn Citadel. Not letting me visit was one thing, but phone calls, too? Jerks. And— Wait.”
She pulled away, her emerald green eyes meeting mine. The last time I saw her, she was in tears over the Inquisitors that had come for me. Before that, we’d ripped into each other about… something. I couldn’t remember, but it definitely wasn’t worth it. Standing here, she looked more like the sad woman I’d that day seen than the firecracker she usually was.
