The Chariot and her steeds flicker and fade, finally vanishing into the night. And I return to my body, to my mages, the magick inside me dissipating.
Overhead, my snowy owl perches on a petrified stone formation, his mournful call reminding us that we’re still alive. Still here.
The whole thing is over in no more than a minute or two, the Forest falling utterly silent once again.
Shell-shocked and bloodied, the four of us climb out of the ruins and immediately link arms, and Baz finally calls on his earth magick, spinning us back out into the starry night, far away from the caves. Doc quickly drops to his knees, pulls out his pin, and calls up the next portal, ushering us back to the abandoned gas station.
It’s not until we’re all back in the SUV, the engine revving, that I finally allow myself to breathe.
“What in the ever-loving fuckery wasthat?” I ask. But none of my mages has the answer. They all just stare at me, open-mouthed, a swell of pride and respect and awe coursing through their energy.
I’m about to tell them to cut it out when a flash of white snags my attention outside.
And there, preening from the top of a rusty gas pump, the owl looks on curiously.
I bolt out of the SUV, tears spilling down my cheeks.
“Thank you,” I breathe, stopping just before the pump and holding out my arm. He flutters down to take the offered perch, nuzzling my hair. “I don’t know how you did it, but thank you. You chased off that crazy-ass bitch and her psycho horses and got us out of that labyrinth…. I can’t even imagine what would’ve happened if… Wait. Labyrinth! That’s it!”
Kirin, who followed me out of the car, casts a dubious glare. “Stevie? What are you talking about?”
“From the movie!”
“The movie?” His brow furrows. “David Bowie in tights?”
“Yes, it’s perfect!” I stroke the owl’s head, a sense of profound rightness filling my heart. “You deserve a kingly name, my friend. A magickal name.”
He cocks his owl head, letting out a soft hoot.
I’m taking that as a yes.
I smile, pressing a kiss to the top of his soft head. Then, beaming up at Kirin, “Allow me to officially introduce my owl familiar. Kirin, meet Jareth. Jareth, I’m pretty sure I speak for us all when I say… Thank you for saving our nearly-pancaked asses.”
“Especially hers,” Kirin says. Then, totally ignoring Jareth’s hoots of protest, he hauls me against his chest and kisses the very last of the breath from my body.
* * *
After our ordeal at the Fool’s Grave, I’m more than relieved to discover Jareth has decided to follow us home. He sails through the night sky overhead, keeping his ever-watchful eyes on us as we leave the outpost in the dust. I lose sight of him in the clouds for a little while, but the moment we’re safely back at the house in Red Sands, he’s justthere, hanging out at the top of a sandstone tower just beyond the backyard.
Maybe it’s a sign that my magick is getting stronger. Maybe Kirin was right and he was just waiting for the official appointment of his name. Either way, his kingly presence is a welcome one—especially after what happened tonight.
The Dark Arcana are growing stronger. They may not be able to fully manifest in physical form yet, but that doesn’t mean they can’t get to us. The status of the Arcana objects we worked so hard to protect is unknown—even if they survived the cave-in, we may not be able to get to them again, especially if the Chariot and her pack of Dark Arcana dickheads are watching the Petrified Forest or any of the lands around campus. And with Eastman given free rein at the Academy, screwing with the protective wards to suit his needs, the magick that keeps students safe from dark forces is weaker than ever.
Snuggling deeper into my blankets, I let out a deep sigh. Even here, safely nestled in the protective embrace of Kirin and Baz, I can’t seem to let my mind settle, endlessly plagued with a single racing thought:
We barely escaped tonight.
And something tells me that for the Dark Arcana, the attack that destroyed our most sacred place and nearly claimed our lives was nothing more than a practice run.
Twenty-Three
STEVIE
In the infamous words of Carly Kirkpatrick, “The end of the world is no time to settle for culinary mediocrity.”
So, the morning after our covert mission, she and Baz team up to cook us a brunch fit for royalty: orange-glazed French toast stuffed with cinnamon cream cheese, baked apples and brie, fresh berry salad, roasted potatoes with rosemary and olive oil, poached eggs over sautéed spinach, banana date pudding, lemon sunshine bread, and enough bacon to fill a suitcase.
They make a great team in the kitchen, and their energy is downright infectious, full of laughter and newfound friendship. Just seeing the two of them rediscover the kind of sweet sibling bond they missed out on growing up… It’s like getting a glimpse into a past thatshouldhave been. Now that Janelle’s out of the picture, they’re getting a second chance—not for a better past, but for a better right now.
