“Let’s get into your email. . .” Jo crouched down behind the desk, peering up at the oversized monitor she hoped would hide her from any wandering eyes. “Dear miss secretary. . . looks like your boss needs you,” Jo paraphrased as her fingers typed with a magical command of the Japanese language.
Jo had no doubt that it wouldn’t do them any good if the secretary called the prime minister; the man was probably too busy dooming his country to deal with any of her problems beyond a curt reply over the phone. But ifhewere to requestherpresence—
Letting a combination of magic and skill flow down from eyes to fingertips, Jo sent the email from the prime minister’s personal line to the secretary’s desk. Even from around the corner and a few doors down, she heard thebeep beepof a message received almost instantly. Jo clicked her way out of the various windows she’d opened, made a hasty cleanup of her work, turned off her watch, and hurried back to Nico.
He was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet as she sprinted down the hall, half watching her approach, half watching the secretary get to her feet. The woman crossed swiftly to the prime minister’s door, leaving the man she’d been speaking to waiting on the couch.
They’d have seconds, if that, to get past her once she opened the door, but it was their only chance. And they were going to take it.
The secretary placed her hand over the biometric lock and Jo watched carefully: still, no magical understanding. But the lock opened, and that was all that mattered. When she cracked the door open with zero room for them to get past, Jo’s heart somehow managing to plummet into her stomach and jump into her throat simultaneously. The sudden look of anxious fear on Nico’s face said he felt the same way. What would they do now? There wasn’t enough room for them to squeeze through.
But as if the gods of ironic fate had decided to share with her the gift of convenient memory, Jo found herself thinking back to the Rangers compound.
Snow and she had walked at a casual pace down the hallways, never once diverging from their path. All the while, they remained unnoticed, and despite the many occasions that Ranger personnel could have collided with them unknowingly, they’d somehow (subconsciously, magically, or otherwise) chosen to go around them. The elevator had been the same—cramped, yet none of the other businessmen and politicians there had decided to even try to occupy the little bit of space in the corner where Jo and Nico had stood invisible. It was just a hunch, but Jo ran with it, stepping in front of Nico and inching towards the secretary’s right side.
The woman was in the process of inquiring as to the prime minister’s concerns when Jo managed to get a foot between the Japanese woman and the door. There was no movement, and Jo felt her chest clench in steadily rising panic. Still, she tried to inch her hip into the smallest amount of open space the woman’s leaning frame provided; to maintain her balance, she pressed her hands ever-so-slightly against the secretary’s right hip.
The barely-there touch might as well have been Jo asking the secretary to step aside, what with the way she abruptly pulled back from the door to bow in apology at the prime minister’s confusion and annoyance. The polite motion gave them ample room to get not just Jo, but Nico and the painting inside without issue.
By the time the secretary ushered herself out with one final, profuse apology for bothering him unnecessarily, they were situated in front of the prime minister’s desk. For a breath or two, Nico and Jo just stood there, watching the face of the man standing between them and the deaths of hundreds of thousands of his citizens—content, it would seem, to pour over what looked to be poll numbers instead. It was surreal, knowing that so many lives rested on this moment, thissecond, of precious, borrowed time.
“You ready?” Jo asked, even though it didn’t matter. Nico nodded, but his trembling hands said otherwise; he understood, too. Whether they were ready or not, this was happening in “Three, two, one.”
Nico jumped back into time and held up the painting in the same fluid motion.
Jo held her breath.
Chapter 28
Final Hope
“WHAT THE—” THE Prime Minister of Japan froze mid-sentence. His jaw went slack and his eyes grew glossy as he stared at the painting, seemingly no longer concerned that it had somehow magically materialized before him.
Jo shifted her weight from foot to foot. Time ticked on Nico’s watch, though he barely seemed to breathe as the minutes passed. The only thing about him that betrayed life was the slight tremble in his forearms as he continued to hold out the painting.
“Is it working?” Jo finally whispered by letting out a breath she could no longer hold. Her eyes ping-ponged between the painting and the man still enthralled by it.
“I. . . I think so,” Nico whispered in reply. Even though he was in time, the prime minister didn’t even move or react to the voice. “I can feel the magic.”
Jo closed her eyes. She blocked out the stately office and wall of windows that let in a midday sun, already setting on the last of their time. She tried to feel the magic, too, tried to sense it like she could her own.
There was a tickle on the edge of her mind, a growing sensation the more she focused on it. Nico’s magic, and then hers, side by side. She stared at the painting, at the aura of power that radiated from it. Jo probed further, curious. She couldn’t just leave it be. Her magic curled around Nico’s magic, trying to pick it apart and understand just what she was sensing.
Something fractured against the force of her magical exploration. In her mind was the echo of something that resembled a lake in winter, ice cracking under the pressure of a weight it was not yet ready to bear. Jo opened her eyes, instinctively retreating from the odd and unwelcome sensation. She didn’t need to know how his magic worked. She had already put all her faith in Nico.
He glanced over at her, as if sensing what she’d done, but said nothing.
Nakamura was still frozen, but his expression was slowly beginning to change. It morphed from a blank slate to a look of abject horror. Jo turned to look at the canvas, trying to see what he saw (without magic, this time).
Mt. Fuji rose from a haze over a land cast in shadow. What looked like the first smoldering rays of sunrise reflected off high gray clouds and put the peak in silhouette. It was almost. . . tranquil.
But when she looked back to the man in power, his brow had furrowed and his mouth was gaping, as if locked in a soundless scream.Yes, Jo’s heart pleaded with each beat,yes, yes, yes!
“What should he be seeing?” she asked; conversation clearly had not broken the trance.
“Pain, destruction, loss.” Generic words that could be assumed, but Nico needed to say no more. If the prime minister was witnessing even half of what the Society had seen over the past months, it would be enough.
Slowly, the man’s eyes regained clarity. The glossy sheen of magic began to lift, its remnants blinked away by the most powerful man in Japan. He leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling.
