“Done what? Saved you? Or saved him?” Nails asked, folding her arms and wings and leaning back on her heels in a satisfied kind of way, as if soaking up Owen’s humbled praise came naturally. “Because I could get used to this.”
“Well, I couldn’t.” Now Milo glanced down at Owen with obvious fatigue, but something else beneath it, a mixture of emotions as difficult to express as they were to discern. “Not if it meant either of you getting hurt in the process. Though I have to say… part of me is glad you came along when you did. I didn’t know how I was going to get him out of there alone.”
“You’re welcome. Now what?” Nails asked, a sharp adrenaline edge still clear in her voice. “Wicked Gold is still out there, even if we messed up his special night. We should go right back and—”
“No. Now you two get as far away from here as possible,” Milo said firmly. “I appreciate your help, but this time you have to listen to me. Owen and I have some… unfinished business.”
Slowly, Owen raised his head to look up at them. Milo didn’t want to look back, but they did. They made themself look, made themself stand up straighter, taller, and look Owen directly in the eyes. The eyes that were so very similar to their own. Same slight build and delicate features, and exactly the same age—aside from the four minutes Milo had on him, and always would. Except for his hair—slicked-back, dark brown, immaculate, tame—and his distinct lack of any sense of aesthetics whatsoever, the man’s thin, pale face was identical to Milo’s. They were mirror images of one another, perfect and symmetrical, despite Milo’s best efforts.
“This is going to be hard enough as it is,” Milo said, eyeing Owen warily. “We’ve needed to have it out for a long time.”
“You’re going to fight? Then we should stay!” Nails protested, eyes flaring briefly. Owen started, and returned to his facedown bow. “Are we friends or not? We want to help!”
“No, we’re not going to fight, physically—at least not if I have anything to say about it. It’s just a personal issue… a family issue.” Milo gave them a tired smile. “And you’ve already been a big help. Now keep helping me by getting somewhere safe and staying there.”
“Are you really gonna be okay?” Maestra had turned her searching gaze to Milo now. She looked dubious; between the ritual and the strange human, she seemed reluctant to leave Milo alone.
“Yes,” Milo assured their friends, managing to sound convincing. “I’m fine. He’s not going to hurt me. And I suspect the most exciting part of the night is over. When I see you again, I’ll explain everything. And I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
“Yeah?” Nails brightened. “How?”
“I’ll—show you some more magic,” Milo blurted as Owen raised his head, a curious look on his face as he glanced from Milo to their winged rescuers and back again.
“You mean it?” Nails grinned fangily, now oblivious to the groveling human on the ground. Maestra watched him out of the corner of her eye, but with more wary confusion than satisfaction.
“Yes,” Milo promised, and they sounded more sure of it now. They actually smiled, and it immediately made them look much younger, closer to their actual age. “More magic, soon. Friendship goes two ways.”
The pair exchanged a glance, then turned back to their friend and nodded as one. “Okay,” Maestra said, clearly considering the matter settled. “Let’s go.”
“No, wait,” Owen protested, abandoning his genuflecting to clamber once again to his feet. “Don’t leave! Please, at least tell me your names. Have you been recognized by the Lady Ombra Dolce? If you oppose Wicked Gold, perhaps an alliance—”
“Don’t answer that,” Milo said quickly as Nails opened her mouth. “And Owen, stop trying to drag these two into your political games. They have much more important things to do. Their lives are their own, and much too glorious to commit to anyone’s cause but theirs.”
“Yeah,” Maestra said with a slow smile, obviously catching the pointedness of Milo’s words. “And we’re gonna have fun exploring all that and getting re-acquainted with ourselves. See you later, Milo.”
No sooner had she stopped talking than the girls were gone, a pair of wildly flapping bats in their place. They shot up into the tree canopy and beyond, disappearing into the near pitch-black night sky.
“Wait!” Owen called one more time before realizing the action’s futility. Face contorting into a scowl, he whirled around to face Milo. “You’ve ruined everything!” he snapped. “Again!”
“Ruined what? You throwing your life away for a monster’s designs? Honestly, Owen, exactly how far gone are you?”
“Throwing my life away?!” Owen exclaimed, voice rising in pitch and bordering on hysteria. “What exactly did you think was happening?”
“Well, the ritual does call for a willing sacrifice,” Milo said, as if patiently explaining a simple math problem to a disinterested child. “And unless I’m completely wrong, you’ve been a willing participant in everything else your whole life.”
“Of course I wasn’t being sacrificed! I’m a loyal servant—but more than that, I’m the Lady’s chosen envoy, and much more valuable alive than dead. Wicked Gold wouldn’t dare lay a finger on me, no matter how I annoy him.”
“Glad to hear it,” Milo said with palpable relief, even as they shook their head. “I just wanted to make sure you were safe. If only because I don’t want your self-destruction on my conscience. Goodbye, Owe—”
“Just wait! Just hear me out, please,” Owen said, usually-calm voice tight, words tumbling out. He stepped in front of Milo to block their exit, but his steps were stumbling, his movements uncoordinated. Instead of calm and controlled, his body language screamed desperation. “You don’t have to say anything, just listen. I’m sorry for before—for the way we left things. I’m sorry for hounding you all these years, and I’m sorry that I—I don’t understand you at all, Milo! Not the first little thing, you’re right, I don’t! And you don’t understand me, but I want to change that. I want us to be a family, the way we were meant to be. If you come home, we can have that. Come home and everything will change. It’ll be different. I’ll be different!”
“You’ve said that ever since we were kids,” Milo answered after a pause, face and voice weary, but with the faintest ghost of a smile, something fond but quickly gone. “But it’s never been different. You’ve always wanted to serve your ‘angels,’ and I wanted… a different life. As long as those are both still true, how could anything ever be different?”
“Because she’s going to grant us our reward now,” Owen whispered, voice filled with genuine awe, wonder, and anticipation. In spite of themself, hairs rose on the back of Milo’s neck. “Once she has the power the circle holds, my pledge to her will be complete. Finally, after all this time. The vampire’s kiss. Our honor. Our purpose. For both of us, not just me, but for you too. All you have to do is come home!”
“No,” Milo said firmly. “I don’t know if you’re lying to my face or simply misguided, but at this point it doesn’t matter. I can’t trust a word.”
“Why? How can you possibly say—someone’s been poisoning you against your family haven’t they?” Owen’s eyes narrowed into a glare. “And I’m certain I know who. Sanguine, that wretch. It was him, wasn’t it? He’s never known his sacred place, his duty, and he dragged you into his mess too. That snake has been speaking lies into your ear, but he’s just jealous! Jealous of everything we have, everything I’m offering you!”
“Nobody’s been poisoning me against anyone,” Milo sighed. “Except for you, just by showing me who you really are. Don’t try this again, Owen. Don’t make me disappear again.”
“I’m not making you do anything! But I wish I could make you see reason,” Owen lamented. “You say you want a life among the humans, but you’re better than that! You’re better than any other human! You’re not like them! You will never be like them!”
“No,” Milo insisted, and Owen made a strange, truncated movement as if he did
n’t know whether he wanted to throttle his sibling or crush them in a desperate hug until they saw sense and stayed with him. “I am just like other humans. And so are you.”
Owen laughed, but it sounded strangled. When his composure slipped, he seemed much smaller. Younger, angrier, and much more impotent. None of these perceptions were acceptable, Milo knew from years of experience, and Owen would do anything to avoid admitting he experienced emotions like helplessness or despair. “It really was Sanguine, wasn’t it? Well, who are you going to believe? The food, or me?”
“I believe that we’re done here,” Milo said, voice flat, words seeming to die in the cold night air. They turned their back to their twin and took a step away. “Getting involved in any of this was a mistake. One I’ll be sure to never make again.”
“You can’t run away, Milo!” Owen practically shouted, voice filled not with triumph but what sounded like near-panic. “Not from me, and not from destiny! Underneath all that—that eyeshadow and vulgar metal you’ve profaned your sacred vessel with, we are still connected! Siblings, twins, counterparts, we are one! All the paint and piercings in the world can’t cover that. We’ll always be a matching set. We will always belong together. You know this, Milo. Your heart knows this.”
“We may look the same,” Milo said quietly, and now they did turn to meet his eyes steadily, without hesitation. “But that’s the only thing we share. We don’t match, not anymore. Maybe we never did. Goodbye, Owen.”
With that, they were gone, disappeared into the dark woods without footsteps, sound, or a trace. Owen stood still, alone in the dark woods, until a single fat raindrop splatted against the top of his head. Still, he didn’t move, even as the rain intensified, aside from a slow slump of his shoulders and bend of his head.
“Shit.”
“Oh, God…” Eva croaked as the world spun and her stomach lurched. “Is it over?”
“It’s over,” Letizia said, gently lowering the both of them to the ground, supporting Eva’s back to keep her upright. “For now. Now hold still. I’m not the best combat medic, but I should be able to do something about… oh. It looks like I don’t have to.” Blood still covered Eva’s neck and shirt, some dry and some still wet, but the cuts themselves were gone. Every scratch had been completely healed by the circle’s stellar light.
“What happened?” Eva croaked. “I’m alive. How am I alive?”
“Remember the power locked in the stones?” Letizia asked gently, peering into Eva’s eyes and obviously checking for hidden damage.
“Vividly,” Eva said, and spat out a little blood. “Did he get it?”
“No. No, it looks like the power has found a new home,” Letizia said, eyes growing a bit wider as the full implications hit home. She tapped Eva’s newly healed chest. “Right here.”
Eva stared at her like someone about three drinks deeper than was a good idea, who was now being asked to decipher a strange bus schedule. “Is that… good?”
“I don’t know,” Letizia said with a borderline-bewildered shrug. “I actually have no idea what the circle’s power will do in a mortal’s form, but… given the nature of that power, I’m not surprised to see it healed you first. You’re very lucky, and blessed.”
“I’m very stupid. I shouldn’t have even been out here tonight,” Eva groaned, head down and eyes squeezed shut. “I know better than to be out alone at night, with sh—stuff like this going on, I should’ve just gone home!”
“That is what I suggested, yes,” Letizia said in a way that suggested diplomacy, but still earned her a glare as Eva raised her head.
“You told me to just butt out of everything and cut me loose,” Eva protested. “Expecting me to bow out just like that, after everything, like that wasn’t gonna piss me off. So really, me being out here…”
“Is my fault,” Letizia said with a little sigh, but no hesitation. “Yes. I’ll accept that. I just wanted to keep you safe—to keep you away from all this, to keep exactly this from happening—but I could have… phrased it better.”
“You think?” Eva muttered, but looked slightly mollified. “I mean, at least you came to get me.”
“Of course I did,” the Witch said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Wicked Gold counted on it, and he was absolutely right. There was never any question that I’d do otherwise. I was always the sacrifice he wanted, and that’s the other reason I didn’t want you involved. Because I knew what he’d try, and what I’d have to do.”
“Wait—you knew what he was doing?” Eva pulled back a bit to look Letizia carefully in the eye. “You knew he was just using me as bait, and that he wanted you to die protecting me, and you played right into his hands? Why?”
Letizia gave her a wry, fond-looking smile. “You are such a clever, perceptive human. In most things. In others…”
“But why didn’t it—do the thing, the way you said?” Eva persisted, forcing her bleary eyes into focus. “The stones lit up without anyone dying. There was no sacrifice!”
“But there was the intention,” Letizia said, face becoming thoughtful, words reflective. “Which… which just makes too much sense. Of course they wouldn’t ask for blood to be spilled, only for a heart’s desire to protect…”
Eva gave her a confused look in reply, and opened her mouth to ask what the hell the Witch was talking about, but she didn’t get that far. Her eyes widened as she caught sight of something moving in over Letizia’s shoulder.
A bush rustled, shaking in a way that suggested something bigger than the usual squirrel or raccoon, and Eva sucked in a tense breath. Letizia released her from the hug and both of them turned, the Witch raising a hand in preparation, ready to fling a fireball, or something like it, when Eva’s own hand shot out to stop her.
“Wait—Jude!” Eva cried, as he burst out of the increasingly wet woods and pounded into the clearing, hair mussed and tangled with leaves. Eva sat up straight, raising one arm in a careful wave, as a pink bat jumped off Jude’s shoulder, becoming a boy before it hit the ground.
“Eva!” Jude yelled back, obviously out of breath and sweaty aside from the rain. “I saw what happened! Are you okay?”
“A little banged up, and there’s some freaky magic shit going on inside me now, but—yeah!” she tried to give him a reassuring smile as she rose to her feet, but then that statement seemed much less certain as her knees wobbled under her.
Jude rushed forward in one last burst of energy, managing to catch and steady her before her legs gave out entirely. He pulled her close, as gently as he could, and shut his eyes. “Are you really okay?”
Eva’s fingers curled around his jacket and held on tight. “I’m really… here.”
“I’m so glad you still are—and Wicked Gold isn’t.” Jude shot Letizia a look over Eva’s shoulder, which the Witch returned with an excellent pokerface. “Freaky magic shit?”
“Tell you later. Hey, it’s no big deal,” Eva said, squeezing him back. But her voice was shaking, along with the rest of her, and the blood on her face and neck hadn’t yet dried. “You really think I’m going to let a B-movie villain and his little henchmen get me? But I guess I did have some help,” she said in response to Letizia’s mock-annoyed ahem. “Still, I totally had it covered.”
“I know you did,” Jude said, and held on just a little longer. Trauma like she’d been through tonight wasn’t so easy to laugh away, even if he hadn’t directly seen it, and she couldn’t talk about it just yet. Someday she’d be able to, and he’d be waiting. “Just thought I’d make sure.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.” Eva gave him a grateful nod, then, as he expected she would, changed the subject. “How’s your leg?”
“Sore. Both of ‘em,” he said with a wry little smile, then smacked the prosthetic one he wore. Organic or not, they’d both been pushed to their limits tonight. “But yeah, this one’s not meant for running. Might have to upgrade if we’re gonna be doing a lot more of this action stuff.”
Pixie ha
d stayed quiet during this, giving them space for a reunion, and Letizia had moved off a bit, walking up to one of the black crystals that ringed them. She reached out one hand and placed it on the stone’s shining surface, eyes shut and apparently listening intently. Then her shoulders slumped as if she were letting out a long, defeated sigh.
“Hey,” Eva called, concern leaking back into her voice. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” Letizia replied, voice flat and dead-sounding, head slightly bent. “It’s… nothing.” The Witch turned away from the stones, shaking her head like shaking off a bad memory, and headed back toward them. “It’s safe to go home, little one,” she said, turning her attention to Pixie, who’d remained on the edges of this reunion, uncharacteristically silent. He looked up, clearly a little surprised that she was talking to him. “The one who hurt you is gone. For now.”
“For now?” he asked in a small voice, and she gave him a bittersweet smile.
“They always seem to come back, don’t they? Come,” she held out a hand to him. “I will take you. I may not be able to slay your demons, but you don’t need to face them alone. If we’re lucky, you won’t have to face them at all, not for a long while. I’d feel him if he was anywhere nearby—and, I believe, so would you.”
“Okay,” Pixie said quietly, and tentatively reached out to take her hand. “Hey, Jude?”
He nodded, and for once, said nothing. Pixie obviously had no idea what he’d said, and Jude wasn’t about to dismiss his real fears with any joke, however small. “I’ll see you at home. Eva and I would go with you, but not all of us have wings.”
“But we do have sore feet,” Eva sighed, shifting uncomfortably in her mud-spattered work shoes. The power heels were dead after tonight, and good riddance. Her feet throbbed. “After all that, my blisters have blisters.”
“Eva,” Letizia said, giving her a deliberate, steady look that revealed little but promised much. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Both humans waved as Pixie and Letizia disappeared, replaced by one large bat and one small, who winged off together into the night. Then Jude turned back to Eva, face serious again and eyes sweeping over her in concern. “Are you really okay?”
Arc 2 Page 20
