“I wasn’t sure you’d want my help,” he replied. “I should have handled it all differently. I should have prepared you properly.”
“But—”
“No buts,” he said firmly. “I was the teacher. You were the student. It was my responsibility.”
“Thank you,” I whispered, pulling him into another quick hug.
Over his shoulder, I saw Isabella sitting at the cheap folding table in the middle of the room and watching the display. A month ago, I would’ve expected her to hug me, too, but now…
“Thank you for being here,” I told her, pulling away from Marcus and sitting across from Isabella. The chair was the same red vinyl as the booths in the main diner and had a tear in the seat that was spilling stuffing. “And… I’m sorry about before.”
“You don’t need to apologize to me,” Isabella told me levelly. “I’m not the one whose hands you fucked up, or the one whose skull you cracked open.”
“Isabella,” Marcus said warningly, putting a hand on the table next to her. His hands were in some sort of magical braces, with silvery rings above and below each knuckle on his fingers and around his wrist, connected by thin engraved rods. They practically hummed with healing magic.
“We can talk later,” Isabella said. “You and me, somewhere private. But you called us here for a reason.”
I hadn’t expected to be forgiven, but it hurt to be proven right. I packed that away for later, when I couldn’t feel the curse trying to claw its way up my throat to spit furious little barbs back at Isabella.
Next to me, Gabriel spoke up. “Before we begin, one of you should make sure that Morgana and her people haven’t inflicted any additional magical injuries on Evangeline. I know neither of you are healers, but you’re what we have at the moment.”
“You really know how to make people feel special,” I muttered to him as Marcus grabbed my wrist and pressed a callused thumb to my pulse.
“I can’t feel a thing with these on,” he said after a moment, wiggling his fingers so his braces rattled like morbid castanets. “Isabella, you’ll have to take a look.”
Isabella glowered but scooched over. She didn’t bother to touch me, just closed her eyes and held her hand out an inch above my wrist. Even though she’d moved away from using dark magic, she was much more attuned to it than either me or Marcus.
“You’re clean,” she said finally. “Aside from, you know, the curse.”
She turned away, and Marcus made a face at her. Isabella sighed and dug a small potion bottle out of her pocket. I held it up to the light when she handed it to me. It had the familiar reddish tint of a basic healing draught.
I popped the cork, chugged the swirling liquid down in two gulps, and immediately started to feel better. I didn’t feel quite as thin and worn-out anymore. Now it just felt like I’d had a few nights of bad sleep and missed lunch, not like I’d spent a week in a dungeon.
“Thanks,” I said.
“Don’t mention it,” she said in a way that told me if I did mention it she would make sure I wound up regretting it.
Awkwardly, I set the potion bottle on the scratched folding table, then wished I’d held onto it, so I’d at least have something to do with my hands.
The door to the back room slid open, and Damien let himself in.
“Good,” he said. “You’re all here. Let’s get down to business.”
The citadel was a huge, imposing structure made of interconnected spires that splayed out across the ground. It kind of looked like a giant Gothic Revival starfish. The cold, gray stone of the place stabbed up into the sky, cutting sharp lines against the fall sky. Courtyards dotted the outside, offering scenic views and spots for people to sell postcards and keychains to visitors. I stood tucked out of view of the citadel in one of those courtyards. The teams we’d decided on were small, and there had been plenty of arguing about them before they were finalized, but eventually, Damien had won out. Gabriel, Marcus, and Isabella would get me inside and cause a distraction if necessary. One of Damien’s associates would get me out. All I had to do was break into the vault.
All I had to do. I looked up at the looming shape of the citadel. Right. Simple.
“Show me that spell one more time?” I asked Marcus, a little nervously.
“Of course.” He was dressed in a surprisingly nice suit, well-tailored and expensive looking. I would’ve been amazed he owned it at all if I hadn’t seen the metallic gold and silver stars on the lining. He demonstrated, keeping the hand movements that accompanied the spell slow. I couldn’t tell if that was so I could follow along more easily, or because he couldn’t move at full speed while his hands healed.
As he completed the spell, Isabella came up to us. She was also sharply dressed in a power suit, and had thrown a glamor over her stark-white afro to make it a nondescript dark brown. With a clipboard tucked under her arm, she looked like she could be right at home working in Eldoria’s government.
She frowned. “Where’s Marcus?”
Marcus was standing right in front of her. He wasn’t invisible, really, he was just… not something my eyes wanted to focus on anymore. My brain kind of slid off him every time I tried to focus on him. I could still see the impression of his smile as he dropped the spell, making Isabella jerk back.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” she grumbled. “You can’t scare me like that when I’m already stressed.”