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“And me,” Prudence said, cracking her knuckles, then nodding at me. “Team Lorica, hey? Same group that went to see Hecate that one time.”
I grimaced. “Let’s hope there isn’t a repeat of that. I’m not sure that I’m up for a fight just now.”
“Oh,” Romira said, her eyes wide. “You’re going to get one. No question. I’m in no mood to see Cerberus. I know I get my extra power from him, but – he still gives me the creeps. I’m staying right here. I can help with scrying Agatha’s location.”
Asher’s words came in a sort of stammering blubber. “I – I’ll stay, too. I can help as well. I’ll tap into the network of the dead. I’m getting better at that.”
It was true. As a necromancer, Asher had access to a kind of gravesight, seeing through the eyes of the dead, an odd and grisly way to gather information, but a useful one. I smiled at him, knowing the real reason he wanted to stay behind. Sure, he’d be of more use helping the others look for Agatha, but it was no huge secret that he had a little crush on Romira.
“Both fair points,” Carver said, nodding. “Sterling, I suggest you stay as well. There’s no telling what’s waiting in the meeting place of the Great Beasts. Sunlight, for example.”
Sterling sighed as he stretched his arms, his leather jacket squeaking. “So handsome and so strong, but brought so low by a little friendly sunshine. The curse of greatness, I guess. Nobody’s perfect.”
Gil rolled his eyes. “I’m coming with. No question.” He strode up next to Prudence, joining our little huddle.
“Me too,” Mason said, pushing himself into the group.
“No,” Carver said. “I forbid it.”
Mason’s eyes went huge, the skin at his neck going reddish, the angelic glyphs tattooed across his chest glowing a pale gold. “That’s not fair. I can fight just as well as anyone. I can help.”
Carver cleared his throat softly, bringing his hand up to his own cheek, then tapping it, indicating the scar on Mason’s face. Mason scowled, mirroring the gesture, running his fingers across his still-healing wound.
“That was an accident and you know it,” he said. He glared at me, then at Carver. “I won’t let my guard down again.”
“Mason. You are young and inexperienced, unlike the others gathered here. You came into your abilities very recently, and I would very much like for you to develop a firmer grasp on your control of the Vestments – and on your ability to hold your own in a fight, for that matter – before we throw you into situations that will gravely endanger you. Your talents are important to us. As a nephilim, you are – ”
“Rare and valuable, I get it,” Mason spat, throwing his hands up. “You’ve said it enough times anyway. Me and Asher, we’re not just some jewels for you to keep in a box, Carver. It’s not fair.” Mason kicked at the ground, grumbling to himself as he stomped off into the corridor.
Carver sighed, shaking his head as he turned to Prudence. “Do you see how he talks to me?”
Prudence nodded sagely. “Teenagers.”
“He’ll get over it,” Sterling said. “It’s for his own good. I’ll go check on him, make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid, like hitch a ride in Dust’s backpack.” His boot heels clacked across the stone floor as he lazily turned to follow after Mason.
“That’s right here,” I said dumbly, pulling on my backpack’s straps. Vanitas was parked safely inside, probably pacing impatiently in his pocket dimension, waiting for a fight. I turned to Carver, my forehead creased. “Did you want me to take Banjo in the backpack? He should be safe in here.”
“I suspect that he won’t be needed after his role in the ritual is complete,” Carver said. “Perhaps it’s best to leave him here after all. If there is to be a potential scuffle with the All-Father – should the ritual somehow attract Odin’s attention – I should like to be present, to protect Banjo. So here I must remain.”
I don’t know that I’ve ever seen anyone fall as hard and as fast as Carver did for Banjo, but who was I to judge the love and loyalty of a lich and his little corgi friend?
“You’ll need this, before I forget,” I said, handing him Agatha Black’s old brooch. Carver secreted it somewhere in his suit pockets, nodding as he retrieved a small leather pouch from inside his jacket.
“If everyone is quite prepared, please find your way into the circle.”
I looked at the floor, then back up at him. “Sorry, what circle?”
Carver snapped his fingers. Plumes of scorching flame burst from the cracks in the stone floor, immediately receding again and leaving behind a perfectly drawn summoning circle, traced in Carver’s signature amber fire.
“That circle,” he said, clearly restraining a smug, satisfied smile. Psh. Show-off.
I stepped in with the others, Bastion, Prudence, Gil, and I each taking a separate corner of the circle. Carver waved his hand again, and at each of our feet appeared a gemstone. The jewel between my shoes looked like a sapphire. If I had to guess, the others were a ruby, an emerald, and a diamond.
“Ooh,” I said. “Shiny.”
Bastion nodded approvingly. “Good quality, too.”
Carver’s voice rasped across the room as he hissed another quick incantation. Each of the gemstones shattered instantly into a pile of dust. Bastion gasped.
