He knew what I was getting at.
“Don’t really feel like seeing the Smiths again today.”
“The Ward doesn’t.”
Luvic sighed and ran a hand through his black hair, making it stand on end. “And I really don’t want to see the Ward. For some reason—don’t ask me why—he hates me.”
“Why?”
He scoffed. “I just said don’t ask me why.”
The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. Luvic strolled through, not looking back.
I ran after him. “No, but really, why? We have to contact someone. We can’t just let thousands of people?—”
“Mari.” He grabbed my shoulder, tugging me back from the building’s door.
“Yeah?”
“You want to team up with a crazed Smith intent on burning you alive, or with a Ward who makes beings scream just by walking past them?”
Definitely. If it meant saving lives. “Yes.”
He closed his eyes and tilted his head to the ceiling. Finally, he opened his eyes, looking back at me. He took a deep breath. “Or . . . we could call my fiancée. She’d help.”
His mouth was pressed into a firm line, containing his smile. I snorted, and then he burst out laughing.
Last? Help? Sure, if by “help,” he meant clap her hands and cheer while we knocked buildings over.
“Yeah.” Luvic wiped his eyes, grinning. “That’s settled. The Ward it is.”
45
“He’s not coming.” I turned in a slow circle, taking in the orange light glinting off the sandstone buildings surrounding Rockefeller Plaza. The morning had brought a bright red sunrise and a ball of fire, and now, the early evening was drenched in an orange glow.
I wiped the back of my arm across my forehead. I was covered in sweat from zigzagging the city for hours, unraveling illusion. I was sore, tired, exhausted, and starving.
After breakfast, Luvic was turned off food, even though he looked longingly at every deli we passed. He wanted a pastrami sandwich in the worst way, but he doggedly passed deli, bodega, and butcher, ignoring the draw. We didn’t stop for food. Instead, we worked.
Rockefeller Plaza was rimmed with leafy trees and United Nations flags fluttering weakly in the evening wind. The sun would set soon, and then my day with the Bards would be done—but until then, my blood was sizzling and burning. It was an unrelenting call, urging me to tear out the knots holding the buildings upright.
Which building? There were plenty to choose from. Rockefeller Center was actually the area between 48th and 51st Street in Midtown. There were nineteen buildings, and the first fourteen had all been built during the Great Depression, in Art Deco style. In the center of the plaza was a sunken square and a private street—Rockefeller Plaza.
There were tons of people streaming past. There was a lot of shopping here. Studios and media too, of course. And the observation deck.
I closed my eyes, squeezing them tight.
“Mari?”
I shook my head and took a deep breath. The urge to tug at the knots was overwhelming. Jagger had commanded I do what the families asked, and the Bard had asked me to tear down Rockefeller. We were here. The day was almost done. I needed to do what I’d been asked before time ran out.
I started to shake as if the atoms inside me were vibrating, two wills fighting and colliding. I opened my eyes and scanned the sandstone building that reached the sky. I knew this building was the actual target of the Bard’s displeasure.
The statue of Prometheus was nearby, tethered to earth, surrounded by water, ensnared by the heavens. Everyone believed he was a hero for bringing mankind fire, but what they never realized was that he was a Smith, and fire was meant to be their destruction.
Luvic whistled, letting out a string of curses when he saw my expression. “You’re scary when you go full evil, Mari. You know that?”
I clenched my hand, digging my nails into my palm.
