9

Vic

“Where are we going?” Vic asked.

“Reconnaissance,” Argent said.

The teal grass grew in spiral patterns like ferns. It whispered beneath Vic’s feet, protesting and flattening before he could step on it. The spirit realm, the Other Side—he’d heard different names for it—usually filled Vic with awe. It was strange, bright, like a frenetic cartoon.

But right now, his skin crawled. They made their way over the plain with no boulders for cover, no trees for shade, and nowhere to hide if something attacked them.

Vic kept his eyes open, his ears cocked, and tried not to focus on his companion.

He already knew Argent wouldn’t tell him who she suspected of wrecking the car, so he tried another approach.

“What lives out here?” he asked.

“Wild beasts mostly, things long dead or too strange for your world.”

“More dinosaurs?” Vic asked, kind of hoping. What kid hadn’t loved dinosaurs? Then again, he didn’t fancy the idea of seeing a live one in biting distance.

“Among other things,” Argent said with a shrug.

“You guys are pretty territorial,” Vic said. “Who’s in charge around here?”

“Like someone we could report a car accident to?” she asked. “You’ll have to fish better than that, Vicente. We can’t blame the attack on a sovereign power. These lands aren’t directly claimed.”

“So it could have been anyone,” he mused.

“Until we find further evidence, I’m afraid so.”

“Is that what we’re looking for then?” he asked, following her on into the plains. “Evidence?”

“This place is unaligned, but it’s not empty. There are people we can question.”

“So you do need a cop,” Vic said.

“Exactly,” she said, smiling.

The plain gave way to a dip. The dirt was ruddy, like old blood, but a lake filled most of the wide valley that stretched beneath them. There had been trees here once, but they lay dead, sprawled and sun-bleached. Stripped of bark they looked like bones. Maybe that’s what they were.

A town floated on the lake. It looked like a series of rafts or barges, each a building or a house tethered by docks and ropes to its neighbors.

A shantytown, it drifted and bobbed atop the water like a living thing. The buildings looked hastily constructed from planks and driftwood. There were gardens of pale plants growing in nets tied beside the barges. They contrasted with the purple water.

“This isn’t supposed to be here,” Argent said.

“The town?” Vic asked.

“The lake,” she said. “The town, Open Skies, shows up almost everywhere. It’s like a watchtower, it has a presence in many worlds, but these plains are dry in both of our realms.”

“Is it dangerous?” Vic asked.

Argent squinted. “It depends on whether the water is salt or fresh.”

Vic wanted to press her on that, but they’d gotten close enough that he’d noticed the figures moving along the walkways. They weren’t humans. A third of his height, they had purple or blue skin and long pointed ears sticking out from the sides of their heads.

“What are they?” Vic asked.

“Gnomes,” Argent said.

“Adam said they lived underground.”

“There are as many variations among the spirit folk as there are of humans,” Argent said, her tone defensive. “Some live in caves. Some live in huts on the beach. Some are painters. Some are dancers.”

“I get it,” Vic said, raising his hands in apology. “I’m just trying to learn here.”

Argent nodded.

“These are surface gnomes,” she explained. “Those who held the Watchtower of the East, the timekeepers, dwelt in the dark.”

Argent and Vic had almost reached the town, where a dock made a bridge to the land.

Vic could admit that he was uncomfortable. He was used to Argent and Silver, but Vic’s contact with other magical beings was limited.

He couldn’t make assumptions, and he was glad he had his gun. He was out of his depth. He might as well have time traveled.

“The past is a foreign country,” he said.

Argent shot him a questioning look.

“It’s something my mom says. She’s a history professor.”

“Your legends and stories started with us,” Argent said. “Sometimes there’s even a little truth in them. They’re not wrong, just often incomplete. And you’re not in the past, but I suppose you could consider this a foreign country.”

Vic wanted to ask if time travel was possible, but instead he focused on the when and where they were now.

“What don’t I know about surface gnomes?” he asked. “Are they dangerous?”

They filled their town with industry, fishing and hawking, playing and talking, but always in motion. They were animated, and looked almost cute. They hadn’t seemed to take notice of Vic or Argent.

“No,” she said. “They’re quite passive.”

“Are they friendly?” Vic asked. He could smell the briny water. Out of place here, it marked the shore with salt.

“More or less,” Argent said.

“So let’s go ask what they saw,” he suggested.

“Yes,” she agreed, though she still sounded hesitant.

They passed gnomes wearing muddy colors, browns and reds that contrasted with their night-colored skin. About half of them had beards.

The gnomes still didn’t react to Vic and Argent, but there were a lot of them.

Their numbers set Vic on edge.

“Are we safe here?” he asked.

It wasn’t like he had any magic of his own, or at least not the kind he could call on willingly. And his gun would only get him so far.

The Reaper part of him slept. He had no way to call it.

Vic laid a hand to his heart. He couldn’t feel his link to Adam. It slept, muted and quiet. Even if it had been awake, it was passive, and Adam didn’t have the magic to play cavalry. Still, Vic missed the connection. He’d gotten used to it.

“What is it?” Argent asked.

“I can’t feel Adam. Wait, are you hiding me from him?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. “I’m sorry. It’s a bit one size fits all.”

“What if he needs me?” Vic asked.

“We’ll be quick,” Argent said. “And I have my reasons. Protecting Adam is one of them.”

Vic narrowed his eyes. He didn’t like that she’d done it without telling him, but he trusted her enough to believe that she had Adam’s safety in mind.

“He’s important to you,” Vic said.

“Yes. A warlock is a rare thing, and a warlock willing to harm himself but not another? That’s unheard of in my experience.”

Vic nodded. He’d known that Adam had hurt himself, but the particular details remained unclear, one more thing they needed to talk through, that Vic needed to understand.

“Since you’re in a sharing mood,” Vic said, trying to seem friendly for the gnomes, “want to explain to me just what it was he did to himself when he saved my life?”

“He should really be the one to tell you,” Argent said. “You’re his bonded.”

“Bonded? You make it sound like we’re married or something.”

Facing him, Argent looked over her sunglasses and smiled.

“That is exactly what I am saying.”

Vic blinked and stopped walking. He swayed with the dock.

“Come again?”

Argent sighed. “I forget how little education mortals have.”

“We don’t have magic,” Vic said. He waved a hand at the market they’d entered. Barges lined with stalls of strange fruit and alien-looking pastries were laid out beside bright-orange flowers that could have been decoration or more produce. “We don’t even know that any of this exists.”

“You’re right,” Argent said, tapping a finger against her chin. “That was unfair of me. Perhaps it’s simply that you don’t have the time to learn. I mean, a century at best is almost nothing. Just the number of books you’ll never have time to read—”

“Could you go back to the marriage part?” Vic asked, cutting her off.

Her eyes narrowed. She didn’t like being interrupted, and Vic winced in apology. He’d forgotten her title, that she was a queen.

“Adam was ignorant of his actions when he saved your life,” she continued. “His intention was noble, but he bound you together, connected you in a way that is rare, and again, in that he showed sacrifice.”

“Like when he made himself a warlock,” Vic said.

“Not exactly. He knew what he was doing then, knew that he would always live with the wound and the pain.”

“But he did it anyway,” Vic said quietly.

That was Adam. He’d saved Vic’s life regardless of the consequences, even though they’d been near strangers.

Adam worried that the attraction between them was only the magic, and Vic knew for certain it was more than that, mostly because Adam was the sort of person who would bind himself to another, a stranger, to save his life.

“Does he know?” Vic asked. “What it means?”

“I explained it some time ago,” Argent said.

It hurt that Adam hadn’t told him, had left Vic in the dark. He was new to the intensity of his feelings for Adam. Hell, he was new to dating guys, but communication was Relationship 101. Adam had reasons for being secretive and slow to trust, but Vic was in this too.

He wanted to ask Argent if there was anything else he should know but wasn’t certain he could handle it. He was already badly distracted when he should be watching for trouble. Besides, Adam should be the one to tell him.

The gnomes had made themselves scarce, leaving Vic and Argent alone on the large market barge. Only the sellers lingered. Vic tried smiling at an old woman. She wore a wool hat that looked like a cooking pot. She didn’t smile back.

A trio of gnomes marched toward them. Their dark, pupil-less eyes looked serious. They wore black jackets, stiff pressed, setting them apart from the other gnomes. The old woman at the bun stall looked very satisfied at this development.

“Argent,” Vic said, pointing his chin at the approaching gnomes. They carried long axes, the blades a glossy metal like unpolished steel. The weapons’ length would make up for any distance in reach. “They’re armed. Are these the cops?”

“Yes,” she said. Her expression had not changed.

She did not look worried or afraid.

“What do we do?” Vic asked, trying to copy her relaxed posture and knowing he failed.

“We see what they want,” she said. “Where they take us.”

“And if it’s nowhere good?”

“I’d like to know who sent them to detain us,” she said. “Maybe they’ll show themselves. Either way, I’ll get us out of it.”

She spoke with certainty, but Vic wasn’t so sure.

“Trust me, Vicente,” she added.

“Okay,” Vic said.

He was really trying to.