“No!” Day snapped. “I am not leaving you!”
“He is gonna die! We… we have to do somethin’!” Seymour fell forward, barely catching himself on his hands. “I… I don’t know what to fuckin’ do. I don’t have…” He patted at his pockets,and his chest heaved as he fought to swallow back a sob. “I don’t have fuckin’ anything left. I don’t?—”
Phone.
Wallet.
Keys.
Inro.
Pouch.
The pouch from Marsha.
He ripped it out of his pocket and tore at the string, pulse pounding in his ears. He opened it up, staring stupidly at a bunch of…
Tobacco?
Really brown and crusty basil?
He didn’t know herbs, and he had no idea why Marsha would have given him?—
“Matatabi!” Day yowled as she snatched the pouch away. She promptly shoved it in her face, wheezing and inhaling deeply. She then dumped the entire pouch in her mouth. Her eyes rolled back, her pupils dilated, and she meowed.
“What in the fuckin’ fuck?” Seymour demanded.
“Silvervine! These are the vines of a plant that’s been enchanted, dried, and all ground up! I’d know that smell anywhere!”
“And what the hell does it do?”
“Do you remember the sword? The great sword of protection my grandfather made? And how I said I knew where to find a magical sword?”
“What? Yes, but what does?—”
“Iam the sword. The soul of the blade was passed to me, and when I died, it died with me. This plant gives me the power to reach inside myself and summon it. Do you understand?”
“No!”
“Hold out your hands, grab me, and then use me to go kill that damn wyrm and save our family!” Day yowled as tears ran down her soft cheeks. “Now!”
Seymour grabbed Day and hugged her close. “I’ve got you. I’ve fuckin’ got you. I got?—”
Day shifted, shrinking in his embrace. There was no more fluffy fur or silky kimono, only something thin, hard,sharp.
A sword.
Seymour fumbled to get a hold of it, cutting open the pad of his thumb. He cursed as he grabbed the handle and then stared in wonder at the incredible weapon he now held.
It was a long, slender sword—maybe a katana? It looked like the one from the murals inside the Inro. The hilt was elegantly wrapped with white silk, and the blade appeared to be made out of glass. As Seymour tilted the sword, the glass twinkled with a strange prismatic light all its own, and he knew this was something powerful and great. There was a hint of something green dancing in that light too, and he immediately thought of Day’s green eyes.
He didn’t understand how it was possible, but he knew this was her.
And they had a wyrm to kill.
“Let’s go, kitty girl.” Seymour forced himself to rise, heart racing, and he took a deep breath.
Well.
