“Good.” Takako leaned back on the couch, giving her an approving stare. “Don’t let him stop you, then.”
“I won’t,” Jo vowed, though she wasn’t sure who she was reassuring.
“All right, then, where shall we begin?”
From there, Jo told Takako everything. Well,almosteverything. For some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to mention the desk, or monitor. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Takako; she just wanted more time with her magic, more time to mull it over and figure it out.
Jo wanted more time for everything. But like their watches, time was ticking, a rare and precious thing that they were never going to get back.
BTCOTS NOTES 4
Takako=Genius.
(Find her if short hand doesn’t make sense)
Hachiman (Japanese divinity of Archery & War)
Bow + War blended
Back to Eslar’s book? (God of Hunt, not war there)
Samurai worshiped
“God of Eight Banners” for 8 heavenly banners for a legendary Emperor
Eight banners = first Society reference?
BUT Only 7 lineages. Count snow?
Chapter 13
Nowhere Safe
Jo hadn’t made nearly as much progress as she’d hoped.
Takako had stayed for a good few hours, helping brainstorm and culling through suggestions. But she eventually left, not wanting to arouse suspicions about them spending so much time together in seclusion. Alone, Jo looked through things that she hadn’t told Takako about—namely related to destructive magics. But that was short-lived.
She alternated between seemingly futile research on ancient magics and mythologies, and mind-numbing attempts to understand AI coding that most people spent years—decades—learning.
Her mind felt overwhelmed, every circuit shorted and blackened out from electrical fires she couldn’t find the energy to put out anymore. Her magic, and her own basic knowledge, had made understanding the programming language possible, but utilizing it was another matter entirely. Especially since that wasn’t the only thing on her mind.
By the time Jo finally allowed herself a break, it was morning and fourteen hours straight since she’d last entered the recreation room. She wanted to believe it was her work ethic that had kept her locked away for so long, but she’d be lying to herself if she said that was all.
She wanted to have answers. She was tired of being left in the dark and wanted to emerge triumphant. But she left the rec room as in the dark as her still-broken computer monitor.
The gelatin blob Jo had transformed into oozed out into the hallway.
Everything felt heavy, fuzzy. She shook her head and leaned against the door as she pulled her watch from the shelf. She’d given every bit of energy she’d had and poured it into her research. And for what? Overall, it felt like a whole lot of nothing.
She headed to the kitchen, drawn by the smell of food. Unsurprisingly, it was Samson bustling about. But the sight of him, where it had once brought joy, now filled Jo with a lingering sense of worry.
How was his magic doing?
That worry was edged out by the sight of the full island. Partaking in Samson’s lavish spread was every member of the Society—every chair occupied but two (hers, and Nico’s). Snow was among them, talking casually to Eslar as he picked at the fruit on his plate like a noncommittal bird.
But that wasn’t the biggest shock. The biggest shock was Pan. She sat on the far corner, slowly stirring her coffee with her bright pink straw, chin in the other hand and a little shit-eating grin playing on her lips.
Jo eased herself into the other open chair, thankful that Wayne and Takako had sat on either side of Snow, giving Jo a buffer. Her mind felt too frazzled to be on point and all she wanted was the giant mug of coffee that magically appeared in Samson’s hand and was placed before her. She’d barely had time to raise it to her lips before Snow spoke.
