Jinx
Jinx observed that Apollo was lost in his own mind, muttering to himself, clearly corresponding with the voice, and then returning to silence. When Jinx asked him about it, he responded with a wave of a hand, swatting the air, still locked in a war with his brain.
“Would you please just tell me what happened to you?” Jinx asked, pinching the bridge of her nose.
Apollo straightened to his full height. “I don’t know how I can, especially considering I do not even know what I saw.”
“If you told me, I could help you. That’s what a partnership is all about.” Jinx pointed out, bothered by his sudden secrecy.
“Well, I suppose I could; I know you have redeeming qualities and wouldn’t be completely useless in this particular situation. But again, I’m unsure of what I witnessed; once I understand, I’ll come joyously into your bedroom, cheering at the top of my lungs. ”
Jinx reeled back, unsure which part of that statement she should focus on and whether she should be offended or grateful.
He said he’d tell her about it later. All Jinx could do was practice patience and trust that he would follow through on it. He glanced at her, thinned-lipped, he said, “The pin triggered a sort of vision. What it was, I am unsure, though seeing that flower is what caused such a reaction.”
Jinx nodded. Appreciating the slight information she could work with.
Hasty footfalls brushed up on the sidewalk, nearing them. From the corner of her eye, Jinx caught a glance of that familiar almond-brown hair, accompanied by the fine tune of joyful laughter. Slender arms curled around Jinx and Apollo’s necks.
Fey beamed at the two, a cheery smile splattered across her face. “What a good day, isn’t it?” In her hyperactive state, she turned sharply toward Apollo, grabbing two handfuls on his cheeks and forcing them into a wide smile. “Smile, Pol. It’s a wonderful day full of wins…for me, at least.” She snickered at her own joke.
Jinx sucked on her lips, restraining the urge to grin. Apollo being teased so mercilessly by his sister was a sight to see. His displeasure oozed from his dropped eyes and flat brows.
Apollo softly clutched Fey’s wrists, halting her. “Just because we are related does not mean I have to put up with your nonsense. Go inside.”
Jinx was unaware that they had already reached the manor; the walk home had seemed so short.
Fey answered with a sheepish smile, dramatically bowing and then turning on her toes as if she were wearing her ballet slippers. As she left, she stopped by Jinx’s side and, under her breath, muttered, “When you’re bored of him, I’m at your service.”
“Your whisper is basically a shout,” Apollo commented.
Fey side-eyed him. “Perhaps you were meant to hear it.” She disappeared into the house.
“Lively, isn’t she?” Fey reminded Jinx of the exuberance of life itself. She was someone who made every second of her life count.
Apollo blinked, tucking his hands into the folds of his pockets. “I’m afraid I must cut this conversation short. The House is gathering today. Just what I need—to listen to some old swine bickering.”
Jinx wandered into the manor, away from Apollo. Her brain turned, thinking about the earlier events of the day. She wanted to take matters into her own hands.
Jinx crept into his room and snatched the black leather-bound book. She flipped through the pages, eyeing the swirls of ink that mimicked such horrible art.
Now she knew Apollo’s standoffishness earlier at the Botanic Plaza had been a response from the pin. Apollo said he witnessed some sort of vision, not elaborating much on what it meant. Jinx wanted to assume it was a vision he’d never seen before based on his abrupt departure from the stand.
His magic could be rapidly growing to a state that could be overwhelming for him right now. Especially if he’d been toying with the volume. She knew he was based on the burn wrapped around his finger and the pulse of magic emitting from the book. This escalation of magic and then that seeing that symbol could have provoked something. It all had to tie to him in some complicated manner.
That symbol.
One who seeks is bound to bloom. That line of the riddle kept ringing in her head. This flower had to be important somehow.
Jinx recalled her conversation with the shopkeeper moments after Apollo’s abrupt reaction.
“What a beautiful pin!” Jinx fawned, laying on the charm. “Where did you get that?”
“Excuse me?” The shopkeeper flinched as Apollo stormed out of the shop. Though she initially wanted to follow him, Jinx knew this was her chance to ask the distributor about the origins of the pin.
Jinx fluttered her lashes, conveying doe-like innocence with her eyes. “Apologies if it was rude of me to ask, Miss. I’m from the East, and I’ve never seen anything like this pin before. I assume it must be of great importance since you aren’t the first person I’ve seen wearing this.” Jinx knew that complimenting the shopkeeper and praising her would inflate her ego, hopefully encouraging her to let down her guard a little.
The shopkeeper checked her surroundings and leaned in toward Jinx, lowering her voice to a near whisper. The wrinkles in her face darkened.
“I’ll let you in on a secret for your safety. To understand the meaning of these pins, you must understand these.” The shopkeeper jutted her chin at the woven thread. “These red bands some of us wear on our wrists are called Tutelas. These are to protect us from any evil that Akuji—our Virtue of Death—may have placed in our paths. On our side of the country, we have a problem—these pests called the Cursed.”
Jinx scrunched her brows. “Like rats?”
Suddenly, Jinx felt her muscles relaxing, her head lighter. She shook it off, blinking and breathing intentionally to wake herself up.
“Worse.” The word dripped in disgust. “The Cursed are greedy people—a danger to our society. They’re the very manifestation of Evil since they’re servants of Akuji. These creatures will murder and steal whoever and whatever to get what they want. They are an infestation we cannot get rid of, and they wield their powers recklessly, directly defying our Virtues.”
Burning anger clawed at Jinx. It was unbelievable that people actually believed these vicious rumors to be true. But she couldn’t afford to show how irked she was, and not only because, at the moment, she was playing the part of a clueless customer. Jinx had to remind herself that these people didn’t know what it was like to be a Cursed, to live on the other side of the fence, exiled from society.
“This pin we wear is a declaration of our loyalty to the Good virtues. To the values of the Elu, Esme, and Fortuna. Yes, we acknowledge that death, that Akuji, is vital to the cycle of life. But we will not stand by the wickedness he spreads in his wake. This flower is known as Elu’s Grace. It began growing by the cemetery earlier this summer.”
Aha—well, that made sense why Jinx hadn’t seen it before if it was so new; she typically ignored the cemetery. Still, there were questions that needed answering.
Why did Elu’s Grace set Apollo off like that? There had to be something deeper to this—something involving Apollo, the Vessel, Elu’s Grace.
Back in Apollo’s room, Jinx set down the book and considered her options. First and foremost, she knew she needed to make a trip to the cemetery. She changed into her black fighting leathers and slipped out into the night.
Apollo shouldn’t be back from The House for another hour, which would give her just enough time. Excitement rushed through her veins, sparking a sudden charge of energy. She was itching to use her magic, her illusions.
Jinx blended into the darkness again, becoming a shadow herself. Before long, she landed in the Botanic Plaza, where she decided to mimic an officer on patrol.
She closed the distance between herself and the cemetery. The sea of tombs sent a wave of chills down her spine, an unnerving sensation. This place held her true name, inscribed on a rock forever. Like an ever-present reminder of the past.
She ignored the way her heart trembled in her chest, the fear she so despised. Clenching her fists, she dug her nails into her palms until the pain overpowered the tremors.
And then there it was, a bed of flowers huddling the edges of the gravestones. There was a sweet and fruity fragrance, accompanied by petals white and pink, all things pure. The flowers looked like the beginning of life after death.
Jinx crouched down and looked closer, then took a deep sniff. A feeling of peace and serenity loomed over her, but then her knees started to weaken. Suddenly, she felt exhausted.
“Curious little thing,” she said under her breath. Jinx plucked the blossom with bare hands and almost immediately recoiled. The pads of her fingers turned red and started itching, a rash forming. She pinched herself awake and fished around for her gloves before ripping the flower from its stem.
She heard leaves crunching around her, setting off her fight-or-flight instincts. Another crunch. She could hear the sounds of six people approaching from her left, just twelve meters ahead of her.
Jinx stepped away from the flowers and climbed up a tree, summoning her illusions to mask herself under shadows. What was this group of people doing here at this time of night? They didn’t wear any pins over their heart, but instead, they each donned an armband featuring the same flower. Perhaps they had a different rank in this organization? It couldn’t be a coincidence.
Jinx scratched her neck, finding the area hot and red. In mere minutes, her skin had started forming uneven bumps.
Beneath her, the six people began picking the flowers, stuffing them into a bag almost overflowing with a clear liquid.
“You think he’ll be happy?” one of them asked.
“The more of these we have, the better.”
“Careful not to touch the liquid inside, and be quick. We don’t want to get murdered. These rats are everywhere.”
That would have to mean a person would have already been aware of this current situation. If these men are so quick to pick these flowers and go. Someone would have attacked them before in this spot. Did that mean that there were people already fighting back? If that were true, then who? Insinuating a silent civil war between the Cursed and the commoners had already begun and been in much deeper trouble than Jinx had originally expected. Perhaps this revolution is the beginning of something new; Harrison, or at the very least a Cursed, would have mentioned something of a sort. Jinx began to wonder why she hadn’t been introduced to this earlier and who had unraveled this mystery before her.
“Guess we better give our thanks to Elu. She is the one blessing us with a solution.”
Jinx grimaced, assuming this solution meant killing the Cursed. It was clear this flower was a danger to her and anyone with abilities. Could the dangerous contraption Warren mentioned be somehow powered by this flower? Or perhaps it was part of another experiment he was conducting? Jinx had to talk to Thatcher and see if she could dig up any more information on Warren’s research.
Then again, since Thatcher was clearly empathetic toward the Cursed, he was most likely not involved in whatever experiment this was. Warren must be keeping this part of his research private. Was this mad scientist the leader of this organization? And how did the Duke of Nadir factor into all of this? Was he funding this research?
She had to get back to the Voclaine manor. Pivoting on her heel, she felt a cold swipe of metal touching her forehead: a pistol, to be exact. Shifting the weapon from her forehead to her neck, the pistol now caressed the jagged rash irritating her neck.
“I don’t think you want to take a step forward. Are you with them?” the man hissed.
Who was they? She must have voiced the thought aloud because next he said, “Don’t play dumb. Those against us.” He was being extremely vague. To the point that Jinx couldn’t decipher who exactly he referenced.
Jinx had messed up. She’d counted six men on the ground, but she hadn’t even bothered to check if there was anyone above. She summoned an illusion mask, covering her face in a veil of shadows. Then she lifted her palms up on either side of her face, showing she had no weapon.
There were three more men in the trees. The odds were not in her favor.
“And if I do? Will you shoot me?” She needed to implement a strategy—and quickly.
He cocked the pistol back, clicking the bullet into place. “Yes. You’re one less rat for us to kill later.”
Numbness crept over Jinx’s muscles. She was falling into a state of clarity, where her mind and body connected as one, where she felt nothing and everything at the same time.
There was only her, her opponent, and her magic.
“I rarely pull rank, but…” she tipped her head to the side, getting a clear view of him, the man on the tree in the far back, and, in the metal’s reflection, the man behind her. “Do you know who you’re talking to right now?”
“I don’t care.” The man sneered, his hand beginning to shiver. His hate was grand enough to threaten Jinx, but underneath his bravado, he reeked of fear.
“I can give you a hint.” An uncontrollable, malicious smile pulled at her lips. “It goes something like this…” Jinx lingered, her hand hovering over her face until the man before her was staring at his own reflection.
The man froze, terror oozing from his appalled face.
“Jinx,” he whispered breathlessly.
She sang, “Unbelievable, right?”
Jinx pulled sharply on his wrist, wrenching the gun from his hand, and pulled the trigger three times: once for him, once for the man in the back, and once for the man behind her. The three fell immediately like apples from a tree, their bodies thudding as they hit the ground.
This was not how Jinx had expected her night to go. Oh well, might as well make the best of it.
The six below twisted their attention as the bodies of their companions thumped around them. Each man shouted a different curse. Jinx leaped down from the tree with the grace of a panther.
“Introductions are beneath me at this point,” Jinx drawled, summoning the organ inside. She pulled an overflow of her power into the tangible world and then smashed her hand into the ground.
An explosion of green and magic formed a bubble around her periphery, trapping her prey inside a whole new environment. For her soon-to-be victims, they were visually transported to the scene from the Dome in the morning, now stuck in a tangle of bystanders.
Jinx blended into her makeshift surroundings, weaving through the crowd, never losing sight of her targets.
Passing behind one, she snapped his neck, stealing his identification card and the bag of flowers he carried with him. Her feet were quick and sly, her magic obscuring her location.
She stabbed one and slit the neck of another, taking their belongings with her. Jinx wanted to know the names of the lives she’d taken; plus, their information might prove useful to her in the future.
As she approached the next target, his eyes grew wide. She knew this one would put up a fight; she cracked her knuckles.
The attacker swung a fist at her. Jinx averted the hit, jabbing back into his rib. He stumbled back just as Jinx pounded a knee into his face, breaking his nose. The target fell down beside her, unconscious.
Hairs on Jinx’s neck stood on end as primal senses warned her of another person behind her. Jinx twisted on her heel, rolling on the ground and dodging their attack.
As she stood up, the man kicked with all his might. Jinx blocked the attack with her hands, launching her leg into his side. He shifted, avoiding it. The attacker then twisted on his toes, shooting a roundhouse kick toward her face. Jinx ducked and swung a leg underneath his, tripping him just before pinning him down. Then she grabbed the man by the collar and struck his jaw over and over again.
Blood speckled around them in a fury, an explosion of red covering the ground.
Jinx stood up, discarding the lifeless body.
She glanced at the brutal scene before her. Where was the last one?
The cemetery was far too quiet. Jinx could feel the heat of her neck and the chill of her skin as she panted. A single bead of sweat traced the line of her spine.
All of a sudden, a boom ricocheted.
Jinx flinched at the ear-blaring pop of a gunshot. Warm liquid slowly discharged from her shoulder. There was nothing and then unfathomable pain. Jinx could not blink, could not move, could not so much as breathe.
Steadily, she touched the spot where the bullet had ripped through her, now oozing crimson blood.
She could feel the organ in her body shutting down, the well of magic slowly draining from her core. Whatever bullet she’d been shot with had to have been laced with poison. It was weakening her magic, the source of her strength.
The veils of her illusion started peeling back, taking her and her prey back to the known reality, stranding them in the cemetery.
Trembling, gripping the gun tightly in his hand, the attacker forced a dry gulp.
Jinx lifted her malevolent gaze, releasing a half snort. She yanked a throwing knife from one of her suit’s hidden compartments and flicked her wrist. The knife landed right in the dead center of the attacker’s neck; he collapsed to the floor.
Nine down.
As her adrenaline waned, her body refocused on the all-encompassing pain of the bullet that was still inside her, rendering her abilities useless.
Without her illusions, Jinx could not go see the doctor she normally visited, the one who’d taken care of her so many times. He’d never seen her face, though he knew she was a Cursed and suspected her identity. He had been her closest, most trusted ally until recently.
Jinx pulled her hood off, scratching her neck and chest, and retreated through the dim back alley toward the Voclaine manor.