Jacob stood over him, his head tilted like he was listening to something.
I reached out along the rope that connected us, tapped at the swirling maelstrom pulsing along the line.
I couldn’t discern anything. I didn’t know what was happening.
Jacob cocked his head as if he’d heard something interesting.
Luvic crouched on his knees, breathing in heavy, gasping tugs. His eyes were closed, pressed tightly together, and he shook his head violently back and forth. A low whimper escaped.
Jacob straightened. His lips parted, and he drew in a surprised breath. “Well,” he said, so quietly I don’t think anyone but me heard.
Then, along the rope, the maelstrom stopped and snapped out of existence. The wind died. Overhead, the chandeliers slowed to a creaky, whining stop.
Luvic shuddered and collapsed to the ground.
No one moved.
Jacob turned to Jagger and gave him a polite smile. “Thank you for the invite, but I don’t think I’ll stay for dinner.”
He was turning to leave, stepping over Luvic, when the Clark spoke.
“Principal Ward? A moment. I see you are mourning your father. But it is not the Bards who killed him. Why not seek revenge where it is due? We Clarks and Bards are aligned against the perpetrator. Join us. Hell Gate holds a weapon that can defeat the Smith.”
Jacob paused and slowly turned back to the Clark. While he looked at Herman, I felt his attention on me. He sent a tap along the rope between us, knocking on the locked door in my chest. Then, as quick as the wind, he snuck through the locks and was standing inside the room, peering at all my locked-away good.
“A weapon?” he asked, his voice pleasantly curious.
He’d tucked away the terrifying power and was once again the soft-spoken college student in a wrinkled T-shirt, torn jeans, and grubby sneakers. He still looked tired, but not death’s-door haggard like he’d been on the water. Instead, he looked like he’d pulled an all-nighter studying for an exam. His blond hair was mussed from the wind and fell over his forehead. He’d shaved since I’d last seen him, so he was now smooth-skinned and pink-cheeked.
This was the Jacob everyone recognized.
The conjurer’s bogeyman.
“Yes. A weapon. A creature of solange,” Primus said, his voice sardonic. “She will break the Smith.”
The Bard stepped forward. “Not a truth seer. We would not suffer a truth seer to live.”
Jacob finally turned to me and stared at me with dispassionate green eyes. “Wouldn’t you?”
“Is she one?” Last asked, sounding excited at the possibility. “If she is, you’ll kill her, won’t you?”
On the ground, Luvic made a slow snarl. Jacob scowled and then, with a vicious kick, slammed his heel into Luvic’s head. Luvic’s skull hit the stone floor as his head snapped back. The snarl died.
The Bard made a noise of annoyance and frowned at the fresh blood dripping from Luvic’s nose. With a disgusted snort, he turned away from his son.
“Ward. Will you join us?” The Bard always spoke with his hands as much as with words. He gestured widely, painting a picture. “The Smith did not win the duel. He died before the duel finished. Therefore, he did not win the games. He was not declared winner by the four families. He was not crowned. Whatever came back is not a conjurer but an abomination. The crown is rightfully the Clarks’. It is our duty to oppose the Smith and retrieve the crown.” His hands slowly opened in a conciliatory palms-out gesture. “Your father was in agreement before he was savagely murdered by the Smith. Will you join us? Will you do your duty?”
“Hmm,” Jacob said, still staring at me. He tapped his hand against his right leg, thinking.
On the outside, he looked like he was reading a textbook, bored and dispassionate. But as he explored the locked space in my heart, he sent a quiet, comforting reassurance.
Finally, Jacob’s hand stilled, and he turned his gaze on the Clark and the Bard. “Thank you, but I believe I’ll have to decline.”
Jagger stepped forward. “You side with the Smith?”
I was surprised Jagger had brought notice to himself. His creatures were unconscious or dead. Jacob had just shown that he could do things I couldn’t unknot. But Jagger didn’t seem afraid—especially when he towered over Jacob’s slight build.
It was one of Jagger’s faults. Even after being proven otherwise, he still equated physical strength with overall strength.
