I stagger along beside her, watching as other beings just as strange as the portal dude and Jamie give us a wide berth.
“How is there not an up or down?”
“Gravity—how you define what is up or down—is a result of mass,” she says, as if that explains everything.
“It’s been a while since I was in science class—and it was junior year basic physics—but I’m pretty sure everything has mass.”
“On the Earth plane, yes, but that’s not how this plane works,” Jamie says.
We dodge something that looks like a rhinoceros had a hate-child with a centipede. Thick center body, at least a hundred tiny spindly legs, a head with what looks like a horn, or maybe it’s a trunk? What the hell is that thing?
“Eyes front,” Jamie reminds me.
When I turn my head, I realize we’re walking directly at a wall and not slowing down. I push into my heels instinctively and Jamie’s hand tightens on my bicep.
“Keep moving,” she says with a sigh.
It’s then I notice a little flashing bit of green just above head-height for Jamie, and another pink one for me on the wall. I suck down a breath and wince as I walk face-first into—
A huge room, well-lit and bustling with activity. Beams of light shoot horizontally and vertically every few seconds, disappearing through walls and ceiling. Jamie moves me toward something that looks like an airport ticket kiosk, and we finally stop.
She speaks in a language that’s all hisses and deep-throated grunts as she puts her hand on the reflective surface. The kiosk comes alive with light and information. She says a few more things and the display updates, looking like it’s ready for input.
Ace would go cuckoo banana pants for this.
“Zixin!” I gasp and reach for my ear, but the bud is gone.
I pull my phone out of my pocket, and something else falls out with it. The screen lights up to show no service.
“He’s very likely fine. I’ll ask Lacey to check in,” Jamie says as she bends down and retrieves the other thing, holding it out to me.
Chocolate.
The damn skreet was attracted to this tiny piece of chocolate.
I take the foil-wrapped candy from her and stare at the little ghost-shaped sweet in my hand. It’s dark chocolate from our Halloween haul last year.
Brown and small. Bitter. Sweet. Energy.
I think that damn rubber plant was trying to warn me…
I peel off the wrapper and pop it in my mouth. “Will you let me know about my family as soon as you know?”
“Of course, but we have other business to attend to.”
She points at the kiosk.
“Say your full legal name and place your hand there. This is the first part of registration, getting your magical fingerprint of sorts aligned with your DNA and voice.”
“This is some Big Brother shit,” I murmur around the delicious bittersweetness on my tongue.
“We keep four hundred and ninety-eight known planes of existence—all with countless inhabited worlds—safe through this system.”
I grimace up at her. “I don’t like it.”
“You don’t have to like it, but you do have to participate if you want to keep your powers and remain free to roam Earth.”
“Would they really lock me up? Or strip me of my magic somehow? What’s the penalty?”
