Page 23 of Invoking Ruin

It’s really not all right. I finish emptying my stomach and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, though the action does little to erase the acid taste of bile.

When I can finally speak again, I shout, “What the fuck is going on?!”

Something in the unhinged anger in my voice gives Vita pause. Instead of trying to soothe me with any more meaningless platitudes, she snaps her mouth shut and tries to deliver a real answer.

“I’ll explain, I promise, but it has to wait. Momus, the man who killed everyone in your wine bar, he will come after us. He wants what I have, and he’ll be incredibly pissed about the inconvenience I just caused him.”

Inconvenience? The police are just an inconvenience, to her? Uneasiness cracks like a raw egg over my head, slimy and cold. I shudder, and Vita frowns at me.

“Sandro,” she says. “We need to leave. Will you be all right for now?”

I try to weigh the question, but honestly, I’m not sure if I’ll be alright ever again. I suppose I can manage for now, but she doesn’t wait for an answer. She carefully lowers me to the ground, away from my own sick, and sets about hooking the horse to a bronze chariot that is absolutely too heavy to fly through the air.

Because somehow, an airborne metal vehicle is more impossible than a winged horse.

“Is that… Pegasus? Is that his name?” I ask her, as my mind scrambles to latch onto something. Old stories from childhood resurface, of the exploits of ancient gods. There was a winged horse in those stories that sprung from the cleaved neck of Medusa.

Vita hums and strokes the horse’s nose. “It is.” Then she comes back to me, holding out her hand. “Come on, the sooner we get airborne, the better.”

She hauls me up and helps me into the chariot, which thankfully has a set of doors in the back to keep its occupants inside. I don’t think I’d dare it otherwise, having to hang on or else go plummeting out the back.

Apparently, she doesn’t like the idea of falling from a flying chariot either, because once I’m settled, she triple checks the latch holding the doors closed. Eventually, she decides it’s good enough and takes up the reins.

“Hold on tight,” she says. “I’d say sit down, but you could get air sick.”

Wonderful. I plant my feet and grab the bronze lip of the chariot as she clicks her tongue and Pegasus flaps his gigantic wings.

None of this should work. I was never a good student, but this entire set up defies every law of physics I’ve ever heard of. And yet, we rise into the air with only a few small bumps in a spiral of flight, our path widening until Vita tugs the reins again and pulls him straight. Below us, Italy spills out like a dark woven rug, interspersed with lights from the city, homes, and passing cars.

We must be thousands of meters in the air.

I can’t tell our direction, and I don’t want to move my head to try to get my bearings. Getting dizzy again all the way up here seems like a very bad decision.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

Vita’s jaw works. “I’m not sure,” she admits. “I didn’t have a plan for this particular scenario.”

Which means she had a plan for other ones.

“You really think that guy will be able to follow us through the air?” I wave one hand—I don’t dare take both off—unable to fully put into words how ridiculous I find the idea.

Vita glares at me as Pegasus flaps his wings lazily, content to hover while she picks a direction.

“He managed to find us once,” she says. “I’m not giving him another opportunity.”

“Us? What could he possibly want with me?”

It’s clear from the way Vita avoids my gaze that she doesn’t like this line of questioning. She’s always been good at dodging questions, steering the conversation from anything truly about her.

I had thought that was because she was humble and shy. Now, I’m not so sure.

“Who are you really?” I ask her.

She shakes her head. “I’m not your enemy. That’s all you need to know right now.” She tugs the reins a final time, steering Pegasus. “Hold on tight. We’re about to go very fast.”

She flicks the reins and Pegasus lurches forward.

“Go very fast” is beyond an understatement. It’s like the earth below us jumps backward, sliding away in a treadmill-smooth ribbon as Pegasus flies us towards some unknown destination.

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