Dragons,Ghost said in disgust.The more I see of them, the less I like them.
“They’re not all bad,” she said, shoving her phone back into her pocket. “Most of them, sure, but some are okay. Well, Julius and Amelia, but two makes some.”
Let’s just go,Ghost said, hopping down to the ground.The sun is already above the horizon. We’ll be late if we wait.
“I can’t go like this,” Marci said, looking down at the plain, cheap T-shirt and cloth pants the infirmary had given her to replace the shredded and bloodstained clothes she’d come in with. The drab outfit might have been passable if she hadn’t also reeked of alcohol from her wild night of drinking, but she wouldn’t go outside right now looking like this, much less to a meeting with the world’s greatest mage. She was wondering what in the world she was going to do about it when she remembered the emergency change of clothes she kept in her bag…right before she realized she had no idea where her bag was.
For a heart-stopping second, that set off a panic. Her bag had her wallet, all her casting materials, her Kosmolabe, everything important in her life. She was just starting to freak out in earnest when she spotted a familiar, bulging shape sticking out from behind the edge of the couch. Sure enough, when she reached over, her grasping hands found the handle of her overstuffed shoulder bag, and Marci nearly collapsed in relief. Julius must have put it there, she realized. He was so thoughtful about these kinds of things. But as she unbuckled the flap and dug down for the emergency change of clothes she was praying was still stowed at the bottom, her hand bumped into—alas, not the soft cloth she’d been expecting—but something sturdy and cardboard with sharp, regular edges.
Frowning, Marci grabbed the mysterious object and yanked it out to reveal a cardboard container roughly the size of a shoebox. Going by the printed label, it was obviously mail of some sort, but Marci didn’t remember picking up a package or putting it in her bag. Itmusthave been important, though. Her bag space was precious and limited, and this package had clearly been carefully tucked into the bottom below the wrapped Kosmolabe and her regular casting supplies. But despite the evidence that she’d clearly considered the package important, Marci had no memory of getting it, or of ever going to the private post office the stamp showed it had been delivered to. She was about to just rip it open and see what was inside when she spotted a name printed in stark, Unicode government font across the top.
Aldo Giovanni Novalli.
She frowned. There was the problem. The mail carrier must have delivered this to the wrong Novalli, because she’d never met an Aldo in her life. Given that the return address was for a morgue, she could see now why she’d saved it. Unfortunately, Marci didn’t have room for charity right now, and she wasn’t going back to the DFZ anytime soon. She was about to say screw it and just toss the box in the trash when her vision began to blur.
She reached up in alarm, but fear turned to confusion when she touched her eyes to find tears rolling down her cheeks.
What’s wrong?Ghost whispered.
“I don’t know,” she said, scrubbing the mysterious tears away, not that it did any good. They just welled up again, pouring down her face without stopping. And as they kept coming, the uneasy feeling that she was forgetting something important grew heavier and heavier.
It’s nothing.
She looked up in surprise to see her spirit sitting right in front of her, his blue eyes peering straight into hers. “What’s going on?” she whispered, scrubbing the strange tears away yet again. “What’s happening to me?”
Rather than answer, the spirit reached up to press a paw to her face. And that was when things got strange, because while Marci’s blurry eyes saw a cat’s fluffy forefoot, her skin felt a man’s freezing hand land gently against her cheek.
You are mine,the spirit whispered, his voice deep as a chasm.Bound to me forever. As you have sacrificed, so will I remember and honor. The others come and go, but we are each other’s. Mine to yours, yours to mine. Always.
That was as touching as it was creepy. Too bad Marci didn’t understand a word. “What does that even mean?”
It means what it always meant, Ghost said cryptically, looking away as he dropped his paw.The bond was paid. Even if you don’t remember the price, I am the Spirit of the Forgotten Dead. I am the one who remembers, and I will remember you and yours forever.
That made even less sense than what he’d said before, but Marci decided to let the whole thing drop. According to her phone, it was already ten, which meant she had an hour and a half to get dressed, break out of here, and somehow get to the town outside the mountain. That schedule left no time for mysteries, so Marci decided to save the strange box for later, placing it carefully on the couch before grabbing her spare clothes, which had been crushed beneath it.
Five minutes and one ironing spell later, she was looking much better. The tank top and running shorts were still not as formal as she would have liked, but it was better than smelling like a wino, and it wasn’t like she had anything else. With that, Marci declared her outfit done and moved on to her next task: getting out of wherever this was.
“Hooo boy,” she said when she saw the insanely warded wooden door waiting at the end of the tunnel-like hall. “Raven wasn’t kidding.” She looked around at the stone bunker with its medical bay and closet full of identical tactical suits. “At least I know where we are now. This must be Chelsie’s room.” She scowled at the multiple locks. “No wonder it’s so uptight.”
Can you break it?Ghost asked.
“Who do you think you’re talking to?” Marci said smugly. “Breaking things is my specialty.” Especially when she had a spirit who could walk through even warded walls.
That thought was Ghost’s cue, and he trotted straight through the door, describing the wards from the inside out as Marci grabbed the chalk from her bag to start drawing the counter-spells.
Chapter 8
By the time Ian’s breakfast was over, Julius was feeling uncharacteristically positive about the new direction of his life. He’d eaten his fill and had an actual reasonable conversation with several of his siblings that didn’t involve death threats, which had to be some kind of record. He was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that he was actually getting along with his immediate family when he turned to grab the food he’d set aside for Marci only to find it was gone. He was staring at the place where it should have been in confusion when he heard a loudcrunch.
Julius jumped at the sound, whirling around to see Bob standing directly behind him with Marci’s to-go box in his hands.
“What are you doing?” he cried as Bob shoved Marci’s Belgian waffle into his mouth. “That’s not for you!”
“I had no choice,” Bob said with his mouth full. “Ian’s been hogging the dining room for an hour.” He glowered over at Ian, who looked as surprised as Julius. “Other dragons need to eat too, you know.”
“I never said you couldn’t come in,” Ian replied coolly. “Everyone is welcome.”
“How egalitarian of you,” the seer replied, licking his fingers. “Though I have to admit I’m a little shocked by how quickly you’ve adapted to the new Julius-culture.” His eyes widened in horror. “Ian, could it be that you were secretly a Nice Dragon thewhole time?!”
