"What the hell?" Easy said, leaning back in his chair and raising his hands in mock surrender. "She's going to shoot the lot of us. I can see it in her eyes. First North for the cosmic knitting lesson, then Twister for the side bet, and probably me just because I'm the closest."
Twister just grinned, completely unrepentant. "Hey, a guy's gotta make a living, and my money's on the lady with the arsenal behind her bookcase."
Flash, who had been watching the exchange with a troubled sort of amusement, finally stepped in. He put a hand on North's chest, gently but firmly pushing him back a step. "North, my man. We're going to use our inside voices and maybe not lead with the 'magical golden threads' next time. It's a bit like telling a five-year-old Santa's real by showing them Rudolph and the rest of the reindeer on the roof."
“Wait. Rudolph was just a blizzard stand-in. He isn’t part of the eight reindeer,” Twister said.
Easy clipped him on the back of the head. “I swear. Don’t start that argument again.”
Fly chuckled and shook his head.
Neither North’s gaze nor expression changed. He looked at Flash, then back at Lechuza, his brow furrowed in genuine confusion. "But...they are real, and they're golden."
Fly just dropped his head into his hands, a long, suffering sigh escaping his lips. "And that," he said to the group at large, "is why we can't have nice things. Or allies who haven't been psychologically prepped for a Dungeons and Dragons campaign run by a god."
Lechuza threw back her head, and a peal of laughter burst out of her. It was slightly unhinged but more on the we-might-be-fucked spectrum. She bent over, her laughter echoing in the room.
Flash took her arms and gently pulled her upright, shaking her. “Babe. This isn’t funny.”
“Funny? This is batshit crazy. Off-the-charts psychotic, and there’s a part of me that’s so turned on that you bound all your brothers with golden threads. You guys are punking me, right?”
“Sure, we came all the way to your secret owl’s nest to fuck with your mind,” Easy said. “Killa, I know this sounds crazy, but we’re dead serious.”
“Dead serious?” Lechuza took them in. “The five of you?” Sitting in her living room with the remains of dinner in the kitchen, she was losing it. “You’re talking about golden threads and cosmic looms and an apocalypse on the way, and not one of you has a freaking clue what you’re doing. North is earnest as a Boy Scout reciting the pledge. Twister is running a betting line on my trigger finger. Easy is holding his hands up like I might fire on him anyway. Fly’s talking about kites and power.” She grabbed Flash’s shirt in both of her fists. “And you! You’re trying to manage it all with your golden threads and slip corridors, binding them in the only way you know how. The brotherhood.” Her voice broke for a moment, and she just stared up at him.
These were her allies. These were the men who had been recruited by some Veil Guardian, sent to convince her the world was ending. Talk about a disaster waiting to happen, and they had the decency or the desperation to do it in front of her without pretending otherwise.
“It’s the cosmic blind leading the blind,” Fly said. “But don’t mistake this madhouse explanation as make-believe. Chaos is real. I’ve spoken to him, and he has every intention of destroying everything.”
The room reorganized inside her chest. She wasn’t the only one out of her depth. The professionals had shown up at her door without a map and were trying to build one by the seat of their pants. This was so very Navy SEAL of them. Something in her slipped a little. They were as fucked as she was, and they had come anyway.
“I’m blown away by you guys all over again. Call the fucking Guardian to let him know we’ll find this Waldo font, and I’ll open the door to Narnia.”
“Hey, you’re mixing your fantasy metaphors, and I fucking love it,” Easy said.
“I thought from the beginning we’re all fucking crazy. Hoo-yah!” Fly said.
But nothing impacted her more than Flash’s approval, the way he pulled her against him. “I knew you wouldn’t let us down.”
7
After Flash saidthose last words, he looked at Twister. His non-verbalshe’s had enough, and we need to be alonelook did the trick. He’d never manipulate her, but he wanted to find out how she was dealing with all this lunacy. They barely had time to get to know each other, but deep down in his gut, he was aware that she would be struggling with ultimatums.
Twister nodded and stood. “Let’s go, guys, and give Flash and the woman of the hour some time.” He grinned. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
Easy chuckled, “So, the sky’s the limit then?” He nudged Twister and gave Fly and North a wry look. They chuckled.
“Fuck you, Twist,” Flash said, not even bothering to turn around. He just flashed his middle finger.
“Don’t stay up past your bedtime,” Twister said when he got to the top of the stairs.
Flash listened to the team go up. Five sets of boots, the second-to-last room door, the easy back-and-forth between Twister and Easy about whose snoring had ruined more deployments, Fly saying something low to North that he didn't catch, the door closing. The tower upstairs settled into thesilence of men who'd been moving for too long and were finally allowed to stop.
She'd lowered the lights when they moved from the table. The amber pooled across the rug and along the leather and made the weave look like it had been spun out of the kind of gold you couldn't buy. Lechuza sat at the far end of the couch with her boots off and her knees drawn up, the line of her body angled toward him without committing to him, the way she'd been angled toward him all night. Watching him like he was a particularly delicious morsel she wanted to devour. His whole body tightened up at that thought. Christ, he couldn’t get distracted by the physical here. She’d agreed to listen, and she had. She had already decided to join him, so that was also decided. He knew this woman in his bones and didn't know her at all. But she had some things to say. He wanted to give her the opportunity to say them.
But first things were first. Aurelion needed to know she was on board.
He let the channel open in his chest. He reached for the Guardian the way he'd reached a dozen times, the way he'd reached every day since the conscription, the miscommunications, and the vow, a rote action, and anticipated response.
