Page 68
Years of training had taught him to catalog everyone around him without thinking, identifying potential threats before they became problems. In Vale Crossing, that came naturally. Here, the crowd made it harder. Faces passed too quickly, bodies cutting across one another until no one stood out for long. Instead of watching individuals, he found himself tracking patterns, searching for anyone whose behavior broke the rhythm of the crowd. It required far more concentration than he cared to admit.
At least Hecate’s glamour continued to hold. Humans brushed past him without a second glance. No one screamed. No one pointed at the towering minotaur walking through the station. The only attention he received came from a child who waved enthusiastically before his mother ushered him along, apparently seeing nothing more unusual than a particularly tall man.
Ria returned, balancing two paper bags. “I got breakfast.”
“What is it?” He accepted one of the bags.
“A bagel with schmear.”
He looked inside. “Schmear?”
“It’s cream cheese with scallions.”
“Then why not call it cream cheese?”
“Because we’re New Yorkers.” She shrugged.
He waited.
She grinned. “It’s what we do.”
He had no response to that.
A few minutes later, they boarded the train, and he found himself pleasantly surprised. The cabin was clean and far more comfortable than he’d expected. He glanced toward the aisle and thanked every god who might be listening for Hecate’s glamour. Without it, navigating the narrow cabin would have been an exercise in humiliation. His horns would have caught on luggage racks, bumped low ceilings, and likely frightened half the passengers before they reached the next station. Instead, he stretched his legs comfortably beneath the seat in front of him. Perhaps there were advantages to looking human after all.
Ria insisted he eat the bagel while it was still warm, watching him expectantly as he took his first bite.
“Well?” she asked.
“I can see why New Yorkers insist on these.” He chewed thoughtfully. “They’re better than the ones at home.”
“I knew you’d say that.” She smiled with unmistakable satisfaction.
The city slowly gave way to quieter neighborhoods before steel and concrete surrendered to stretches of trees already dressed in autumn. When they had finished eating, she led him to the café car. They got their coffees and found another pair of seats facing the windows. Neither of them spoke much. They simply sat together, sipping their drinks while the scenery rolled by, the rhythm of the train creating a comfortable silence between them.
He found himself unexpectedly enjoying the journey. Traveling through the Upperworld had always sounded chaotic whenever she described it, but watching the countryside drift past at a leisurely pace had its own appeal. There was no urgency, no battle to prepare for, no patrol to lead, just the steady hum of the train and the warmth of the coffee in his hands.
After several minutes, she glanced over at him. “I have something to show you.”
He raised an eyebrow.
She laughed, stood, and jerked her head toward the next carriage. “Come on.”
He followed her through the train, weaving past passengers who were in their seats with books, headphones, or laptops open. The farther they walked, the quieter the train became. Families gave way to business travelers, and eventually even those disappeared until they found themselves standing in a nearly empty section of the carriage and in front of an unremarkable metal door.
He looked down at the sign. Electrical Access. Authorized Personnel Only.
He frowned. “I don’t think we’re supposed to be in there.”
“We’re not,” she smiled innocently.
“Then why are you opening it?”
“Because Hecate told me to.”
Before he could protest, she turned the handle. The door swung inward, and instead of exposed wiring, humming machinery, or whatever humans normally kept in an electrical room, a short hallway stretched before them, warmly lit by hanging lanterns. Polished wooden floors replaced the train’s industrial carpeting, and at the end of the corridor sat another door carved with intricate knotwork that shimmered faintly with magic.
He stopped and looked back over his shoulder. The train carriage was exactly as they’d left it, passengers chatting and paying no attention to the open doorway behind them. When he turned back, however, the hallway was still there, stretching ahead as though it had always been part of the train. “That’s impossible.”
