The coat was a heavy thing, thick and too big for her, but warm; it smelled a bit like whatever cologne Wayne now wore. For a moment, it left Jo just standing in the foyer, wrapped up tight in the material and breathing. There was a spicy note to it, sharp enough that it triggered a heart-rending sense-memory of cloves and crisp winter air.
Every part of her ached for Snow, making the musky scent of the coat, though pleasantly similar, seem lackluster in comparison. Without a conscious command, something in her was reaching out blindly for him, longing in a way that could not be described. Somewhere, as though he were on the other end of an invisible tether, Jo could almost feel him. But she lost the sensation before she could grasp it fully.
The elevator descended smoothly and Jo watched as the numbers were illuminated in swift, decreasing succession. When the doors in front of her opened, a cool breath of night air gusted over her. The lobby was icy, and Jo drew the coat tighter around herself, bracing for the even colder temperatures that awaited her outside.
The security guard watched her closely for several seconds, his eyes shining golden in the darkness. The longer Jo stared, the more “not quite human” the creature began to look, until eventually she had to tear her eyes away. He turned his head down with a sniff, looking back at the tablet propped against his knee and muttering something about “humans.” As Jo passed, she noticed long ears—much longer than even Eslar’s and far more narrow—tucked under his cap.
Outside, her previous assessment about the chill was spot-on. But Jo relished every shoulder-trembling gust of wind, the night itself carrying the scents of the city and the faint spark of magic throughout. Yorkton and New York City were both large, and on a numbered grid, but the similarities stopped there. Sure, there were some things found in every city, like the steam billowing up from its underbelly. But now Jo wondered what lurked in those depths: Subway cars? Giant worms? A whole different city? The possibilities in this new Age of Magic seemed endless.
As she wandered down the first block, Jo’s mind turned from the city to wondering what the others were dreaming about. Nineteen years of experience, and she already couldn’t quite remember what it felt like to dream. She could recall images and feelings, but the distinct sensation of dreaming had left her, a misplaced sort of energy taking its place. There was so much time here in the after-hours where most of the world slept and Jo didn’t quite know what to do with herself.
She shoved her hands in the pockets of Wayne’s coat as her mind whirred with countless possible failures to their as-yet-unformulated plans. Pan was crazy and unpredictable, but she was also powerful and terrifying, and those things combined left a metallic tang of panic at the back of Jo’s throat. If they didn’t come up with a good enough plan, they’d be playing victim to whatever world Chaos—or worse, Oblivion—might determine.
The thought carried Jo’s mind in a different direction. Pan versus Chaos. If Jo had reclaimed her demigod status with the destruction of the Society, then any tethers holding Pan back must have been broken as well. Was Chaos similar to Pan? Or would her new personality be different entirely?
A solid block away from Wayne’s building, Jo felt it.
To call it a sensation was too simple, the prickling beneath her skin and at the back of her neck tantamount to the faint itching of a forgotten memory. Without really knowing why, Jo picked up the pace, splitting her focus between the growing itch and the length of sidewalk in front of her.
It took about another block for her to identify the itch as a physical thing, a magical presence probably a dozen feet behind her.
There was a creeping, crawling feeling to the magic. Invisible tendrils attempted to sink into her lungs like a heavy smoke and weight her down. Every sensation was physical, though any casual observer would see nothing more than two people walking down the street.
Jo stopped suddenly, and felt the presence stop as well. Swallowing, she braced herself for what she might find when she turned. Even with that, she was caught off-guard. She’d been half-expecting, perhaps even half-hoping for, the candy-haired woman-child to be standing there.
Fortunately or unfortunately—Jo couldn’t decide which—it was a fairly unassuming-looking man. Average build, human as far as she could tell, generally speaking not someone she’d be too worried about if it weren’t for his face. His eyes were completely blackened and oozing down his face, like melting charcoal.
“You’ve finally awoken,” the man spoke.Well, not quite. He opened his mouth and the words came from his lips, but it was not whatever the man’s voice had been. Instead, it was an eerie echo of a voice Jo knew well.
“Go away.” She didn’t think the command would work, but it didn’t hurt to try.
“Aren’t you already tired of the hunt?” Pan continued through the man as if Jo hadn’t said anything at all. Every time his spoke, his lips chapped, peeling away like paint chips to reveal a new, nearly glowing color underneath. “We’re right back where we started.” The man tilted his head. The movement was awkward and unnatural, as if the rest of his body were limp, held upright and commanded by invisible strings. “Not quite. I have something here you want.”
Snow. The thought cracked through her mind like lightning and, as if she’d said it aloud, the man smirked in the most uncomfortably familiar way.
“Yes.” The man took a lurching step forward. “Him. The one who was made for you. But he was only made, Destruction.” Jo shuddered at the sound of her old name rolling off his lips in Pan’s voice. Wrong, the whole situation was wrong. “I was part of you—Iwasyou, long before he ever even existed.”
The street had darkened around her. It was as if she now stood in a tunnel with no exits, only darkness. The man was before her with his haunted eyes and glowing mouth spewing Pan’s words. And somewhere behind him, somewhere far but almost close enough to touch if Jo took one mighty lunge forward, was the ghostly outline of Pan.
“Come back to me.”
“Free him.” Jo kept her eyes on the man and not the wisps of color condensing further into the shape of Pan by the moment. “Free this man. He’s not part of this game.”
“It’s too late for that.” A giggle echoed off more corners than the not-quite reality should have. “I’ve already turned his intestines to gummy worms and his heart to lead.”
It was true. The closer the man got, the clearer she could see it. Chaos had done her work on him—nothing was in its right place.
“There’s only one route out for him now.”Destruction, Jo heard the word left unsaid. “Put him out of his misery and come to me. Snow and I are merely sustaining in this castle. There’s not much energy left now. Come to me and save others from suffering his fate.”
Jo took a small step back. She could see just what thread to pull on to make the whole knotted mess of a man unravel. This was not the first time she’d been confronted with this decision. The shadows clouded her eyes—a forest, running, Chaos hunting her. Jo blinked the memories of her past life and Pan’s games away.
The man was right before her now, a horror to behold. His skin was turning scaly, nose flattening into that of a kitten, or hog. Though his eyes were still the same void that bled down his face in rivulets.
“Kill him, Jo.” With Pan’s voice, the man commanded his own death.
She’d killed people before, like this, back then. Jo’s mind was twisting in on itself with every flash of memory. She’d put an end to their suffering when she had to. So why couldn’t she now?
“Destroy him. Let it out. Feel how good it is to further the world to its natural state of oblivion once more.”
