“He’s a reaper—as in he reaps your soul once you die—but, yeah, I won’t be back on the job for the next week at least.”
She snorts. “I’ve got a feeling you’re going to be busy longer than that, babe.”
“I, er, spoke to Madame.” I figure the best way to approach this is to rip the bandaid off. Jetnever wants to talk about the academy, or about being a weaver, or about anything, really. But she needs to know that even if I’ve got to spend the next few weeks away from her, I’m doing it for her more than anything. It may be a transition for us both, since we’ve spent every single day together over the past five years, but we can’t keep going like we have. We can’t spend the rest of our lives bouncing from place to place because she fears getting caught and tethered into a life she doesn’t want.
Jet’s shoulders stiffen as soon as I say Madame’s name, but I keep going. I can’t hold off from telling her what’s going on.
“She said that if I can find this woman, I’ll get a favor of my choice. A ‘boon’, she called it, doesn’t matter how big it is. See, this is amazing. I’m gonna get you out, Jet. You can stop being a weaver or you could pick your own placement or something. I dunno, you can spend the next week deciding what it is you might like. Whatever will make you happy.” I grin at her like this isamazingnews.
Only for her to scowl back at me like what I’ve said is personally offensive.
“Happy?” she spits. “If you’re making deals with Madame, there’s no way that you’re getting out of it without it being one-sided.” She laughs humorlessly. “You’re naïve if you don’t think you’re getting fucked over, Echo, babe.”
I blink at her. Even though I’m mostly putting on the whole overenthusiastic schtick, her attitude still stings.
When you’re someone with an upbeat personality, people love to knock you down so you can be as miserable as they are. People also like to act like being peppy is the same as being stupid, which is something I’ve dealt with my whole life. I just didn’t think my sister would be like all the others, and all in a single sentence, too.
I don’t let the hurt show on my face, instead keeping my smile wide like I’m totally impervious to her words. “I mean, this is our chance, right? Make a change and maybe you’ll find somewhere really great, or you could get out of the business altogether.”
“So either I’ll be just as under the thumb as I’ve always feared or I’ll lose my powers and will they will send me somewhere no doubt where we’ll never see each other again? Powerless, I’d be practically human. Do they let weavers and humans be friends, Echo? Is that why they mess with their memories so that our human families forget we ever existed?” She huffs. “You don’t think they’d do that to me? Whole new life, new backstory. I won’t remember ever having met you or any of the experiences we’ve had together. Would you behappywith that?”
Sugar lumps and shitstorms. She’s not wrong at all.
Now she’s practically yelling at me and it’s really hard not to flinch at the sudden noise level. “Whatever they offer you, you don’t want it. Do the job, take the reward, but don’t for a second think that they won’t twist it.”
Too bad I’ve already agreed to help. Do now and regret it later. That kind of thing’s my jam.
“I-I was doing it for you,” I stammer, losing control of my reactions enough to show her she’s riled me. It’s bad enough that she’s made me feel shitty, worse that I’m letting her know that she’s made me feel that way. That’s my other primary defense mechanism. You stick on a smile and act impervious to everything, like people’s attitudes don’t get past your skin.
“Well, don’t! Do it to help the woman if you really think she needs finding and hasn’t just found her own lucky escape. But never get involved with those manipulative fucks, for my sake.”
I can see that I will not get anywhere with her right now, so I climb off her bed and head into my room to pack up my belongings. It’s not exactly how I want to leave things with my sister, but I need to turn my thoughts back to the pressing matter of finding the missing weaver. I need to go back to the garden.
“You’d better be going, hadn’t you?” Jet says from my doorway.
I look up from where I’m shoving the last of my underwear and a few changes of clothes into a duffel bag. I take a last look to see if I’ve forgotten anything essential I might need over the next couple of days and grab the handle.
“I’ve got enough stuff to last a week and then I’ll be back,” I tell her. Hopefully, her salty mood might have abated slightly by then. Hell, maybe this entire enterprise is a good thing, if just to let us get a little space from each other. It’s clear that we’re at our limit for spending time together and will just get on each other’s nerves otherwise.
“Text me to let me know how it’s going?” she says, and it’s as close to an apology as I’m going to get.
I know better than to try to talk anymore with her. She'll just bite my head off some more and I’ll have to limp off, licking my wounds.
“I will,” I tell her.
“Send a pic of the stripper if he takes his duster off, too.” Her tone tells me she’s joking, but the thought of sending a picture of Soren while he’s missinganyamount of clothing has me bristling.
Iamgoing to find Wren, the missing weaver. Iamgoing to find her and Iamgoing to take that boon and make my sister happy. Even if I have to shove her kicking and screaming into her new life.
4
Echo
“Honey, I’m home,” I call as my feet hit the soft ground of Soren’s garden. I drop my hastily packed bag at my feet and take another long look around. I feel like I can't get enough of looking at this place. Even though it’s been all of a few hours since I was last here, it feels weirdly like coming home. Which is insane. Something I will definitely not be voicing to any grouchy reapers should they pop up out of any nearby hedgerows.
A slight breeze brings with it the scent of springtime leaves and wildflower meadows and I take a greedy breath in. Since there doesn’t look to be anyone around, I grab my bags and continue my tour of this place—Soren wasn’t the best tour guide in the world and what can I say, I’m nosy.
I wander through a copse of trees and spot a long, winding staircase made of carved wood that seems to lead up into the tree canopy. I climb the stairs and find that it leads to a little house that’s shaped like a mushroom. It’s quirky and cute and weird, a little bit like I’ve stepped inside a storybook or fairytale.
