That answer struck Marci as both earnest and fair, and despite her long-standing suspicion of anything that sounded too good to be true—including people just taking her deal as offered without even trying to negotiate her down first—she could find nothing wrong with the general’s agreement. “I guess that settles it, then,” she said, putting out her hand. “We have a deal. What should we do first?”
She really hoped they didn’t say the library. She was sure Amelia would let them use it, but that didn’t change the fact that she’d offered it without getting permission. Fortunately, she’d already stipulated that she had to help Julius first, which meant she could stall on the library offer at least until the vote was done if she had to. But while Marci was frantically trying to figure out how she was going to handle this new life she’d suddenly agreed to, Sir Myron had more practical concerns.
“As much as I want to see the Planeswalker’s library, the first thing we have to do is stabilize your spirit,” he said, glaring pointedly at the fading cat in Marci’s arms. “Agreeing to work together is well and good, but this will all be for nothing if the first Mortal Spirit can’t maintain his form due to severe neglect. You’ve made it clear you won’t tell me what domain he represents, but can you at least tell us where we can go to find magic that’s appropriate so we can feed him before he wastes away and takes our once-in-a-lifetime chance with him?”
As always, Marci did not approve of the undersecretary’s attitude. She was, in fact, becoming severely disillusioned with the mage she’d hero-worshiped for half her life. Sadly, being a jerk about it didn’t make him any less right. Even with free access to Amelia’s fire, Ghost looked dimmer than ever in the bright noon sun. She was starting to feel a bit panicky about that when she remembered the boy in the dumpster.
“I think I know how to help,” she said, petting Ghost’s transparent fur. “Do you have any contacts who know this area?”
“Several,” the general said, pulling out a sleek black brick of a military phone. “What do you need?”
She looked down at the spirit cradled in her arms. “Somewhere a lot of people died and no one cared.”
Sir Myron’s eyes widened in horror, but the general just nodded and started waving her fingers through her AR. “Let me see what I can find.”
“Thanks,” Marci said, carefully tucking Ghost back into her bag before pulling out her own phone to let Julius know what was going on. But as she was trying to figure out how she was going to explain all this, she spied a tall, familiar figure sitting on the hood of an ancient but beautifully maintained Buick parked at the far end of the diner’s empty lot.
The sight sent a chill though her. She had no actual reason to think he was here because of her, but given what had happened the last few times Marci had seen Bob sitting on a car, she didn’t have a good feeling. The seer didn’t waste his time sitting around in places that weren’t going to be important. So, though it went against all her better judgment, she stuck her phone into her pocket and knocked on the ward. When Sir Myron lifted it, she hurried out the door, scurrying across the bright parking lot to ask the Great Seer of the Heartstrikers what he was doing here and if she should duck.
She was only a few steps away when Bob said, “No ducking required just yet.”
Marci froze, but the seer didn’t even turn to face her. He just reached backwards, holding out a battered white pastry box containing a lone, bright-yellow confection that kind of—if one was being both generous and imaginative—looked like a dragon in flight.
“Dragon Danish?” he offered cheerfully. “They’re hideously overpriced and taste like sugared cardboard, but I always get a kick out of eating a pastry effigy of myself.”
“I’ll pass, thanks,” Marci said, circling around to the front of the car so she could look at him face to face.
“Your extremely slight loss,” the dragon said as he pulled the box back, reaching inside to grab the pastry before shoving it into his mouth wings first. He finished the thing in two bites, pivoting to toss the now-empty box into the public trashcan before leaning back on his windshield. “I suppose you want to know your future now?”
Marci shook her head. “I just came over to ask what you were doing.”
“Oh, so, same question, really,” Bob said, patting the spot on the hood next to him. Marci was about to decline the offered seat when she realized he wasn’t offering it to her. Instead, his pigeon swooped down from the clear blue sky to land on his hand, cooing excitedly.
“I never let her miss a good show,” he explained, lifting the bird up to kiss its feathered neck. “And trust me, this one’s going to be an extravaganza.”
Marci’s stomach began to sink. “Good extravaganza or bad extravaganza?”
“That depends on your perspective,” the seer replied, gazing up at the mountain that rose like a skyscraper over the desert town. “Do you prefer your Julius rare or well done?”
Now Marci wasreallyworried. But as she was opening her mouth to demand to know what he meant by that, Bob raised his hand. “Wait for it…”
She held her breath, waiting.
And waiting.
And waiting.
And then, just when she couldn’t wait any longer, Bob said. “Nowduck.”
Marci ducked, dropping her body to the sun-warmed asphalt just in time as the peak of Heartstriker Mountain exploded in a blast of fire, sending debris raining through the city below.
Chapter 11
Twenty minutes earlier, before Marci had even made it to the diner, Justin and Julius were in the golden elevator on their way to the top of the mountain to answer Bethesda’s summons.
Julius had actually toyed with the idea ofnotgoing. Two days after her overthrow, it was finally starting to sink in that he didn’t have to jump every time his mother said frog. Also, he’d desperately needed time to think over everything Chelsie had told him and find the angle that would let them win. Ithadto be there. He refused to accept that Bethesda actually had Chelsie—and apparently by extension, F-clutch, not to mention the rest of the clan—in an eternal trap. Unfortunately, this wasn’t a puzzle he could just breeze his way through, and it was hard to think when his mother kept calling and calling.
In the end, he’d decided to just go. He might not owe his mother obedience anymore, but he was the one who’d put her on the Council, and it was rude to just ignore her. Besides, it might actually be important, so he’d left the Fs’ hideout at the base of the mountain, grabbed his brother, and started up the mountain toward the opposite end of the Heartstriker world to see what she wanted.
