“Yes, everything is fine,” Jo assured him. “I’m sorry to wake you, but it seemed . . . We just . . . We were—”
“Jo has something she needs to ask you.” Takako stepped in to assist in guiding Jo’s frantic thoughts.
“I know it’s late, but may we please come in, Samson?”
“Oh, um . . .” Samson disappeared and some more prominent shuffling could be heard.
Jo and Takako exchanged a look after it continued for several seconds with still no Samson back at the door. Jo leaned forward. “Sa—”
The door opened in full, startling her. As Jo straightened, she bumped into Takako and would’ve lost her balance were it not for the woman’s strong grip on her arm.
“Sorry, I wasn’t trying—”
“You can come in now.” Samson smiled, and stepped aside.
“This is where Wayne put you up?” Jo frowned. She hadn’t done that much exploring of the two-story penthouse. There were as many doors as there were windows—and Wayne loved his windows. She expected there to have been rooms on rooms on rooms.
But while Jo had assumed Samson would follow in Takako’s footsteps and claim a guest room, this room in particular looked more fitting for the company below than the private home of its CEO above. It had a long oval table, carved of the same rich wood as the doors but inlaid with the obsidian that Jo had seen used for just about every other magical thing. However, none of it was visible due to the sheer mass of tinkering items that had been strewn about the makeshift workspace. The chairs that normally would have been occupied by executives had been pushed all to one side. Opposite was a small cot, barely enough room for one, piled with blankets and pillows.
“It’s a bit sad as a workshop, isn’t it?” Samson ducked his head.
Jo wasn’t sure where she should start correcting him. That she hadn’t been critiquing it as a workshop at all? That she’d been worried about his comfort? That she thought Wayne had put Samson in a corner initially and didn’t think about the fact that Samson’s most critical need was not his sleeping space, but his workspace?
“It’s a fantastic workshop because it’s filled with your creations, Sam.” Samson blinked, then blushed, shaking his head. “Are they . . . working well for you?” Jo added hastily, thinking of how being tied closely with her destructive magic in the Society had begun to take its toll on his own powers.
“No issues.” His tone assured her that he understood the underlying meaning of her question.
“Good, I’m glad to hear it.” Jo wasn’t sure if she could handle her magic breaking down another person after Nico.
Takako refocused them once more. “So, what did you need Samson for? Let’s not dally. Who knows if the cops are coming.”
“Cops? Why would—”
“Pan attacked Jo.”
“What?” Samson’s head whipped back and forth in confusion. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” Jo swallowed and forced herself to take an extra breath—forced an extra three seconds of thought into what she was about to say next. She had to get them—and keep them—on track. “Sam . . . Do you remember the first time I was in your room? When I helped you find weak points in the new seismograph machine you were working on?”
Samson nodded.
“You showed me your personal room too.” It was a setup not unlike what he had now, Jo realized—a small bed shoved off to the right side of the entry and a much, much larger workspace. “In that room, you had some of your personal projects—arrows.”
“Yes?”
“There was one arrow. An arrow you didn’t want me to touch.”
“I know the one you’re talking about . . .” Samson seemed on guard. His hands began to twitch. The lack of tactile sensation caught up with him as he reached over to the table, grabbing the nearest bauble.
“That arrow—”
“Is special,” Samson interrupted in rare form. “I still have it.”
“What?” Jo and Takako seemed to say in unison.
“It survived the end of the Society?” Takako whispered, solo.
“Yes . . .” Samson gave a small nod. “Everything I made in the Society is gone. Perhaps because I didn’t make it?” He went from nodding to shaking his head to shrugging. “It was in my room in the Society when I woke there, just as it was in the room where I woke up in this timeline. It seems to follow me.”
