Page 24 of Cloak of Night
Sora had known it would be difficult—maybe impossible—to get Vespre’s attention. And yet disappointment swamped her gemina connection like the stifling mugginess of a bog, making it hard to keep their chins up.
“We tried our best,” Sora said as they unrolled their mats and got ready for bed. She had to stay upbeat, for everyone’s sake. “But it was only our first attempt. Get some sleep. Tonight, we’ll try our best again.”
Chapter Thirteen
By the time everyone else woke up in the afternoon, Fairy was nearly bouncing out of her skin. “I have an idea,” she announced as she darted from sleep mat to sleep mat.
Broomstick rubbed his eyes, still half asleep. “You’re making me dizzy by flitting around like that.”
“Yeah, stay still,” Wolf said. “But if your idea is to magically find us coffee, I’d be all right with it.”
Fairy laughed, but only for a moment. She’d been waiting forever for them to wake up so she could share her epiphany. “I think we need to change the sticks we use with our prayers.”
“To what?” Spirit asked as she yawned and stretched.
“The twigs we used last night were just chestnut branches,” Fairy said. “But I think we’d have a better chance of Vespre paying attention to us if we made smoke from night-blooming flowers.”
“Why would that work?” Broomstick said.
“You don’t remember the story from Spirit’s mother’sbooks? Mortal women who want Vespre’s attention set out night bloomers like wisteria, moonflowers, and certain types of jasmine to summon him to their beds.” It was one of Fairy’s favorite myths because it had to do with plants. And she wouldn’t admit it, but it had also been her earliest primer on how to attract boys.
Wolf sat up on his mat, though, eyes alert with horror all over again.
“Stars, no!” Fairy said. “I promised you I wasn’t trying to flirt with your dad, and I won’t! That’s disgusting. Besides, we’reallgoing to use these flowers to contact him.”
“It’s a good plan,” Spirit said. “But where do we find the flowers? It’s daytime now, and you’re the only one who would recognize them in their unopened state.”
“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that.” Fairy grinned and pointed to the base of one of the chestnut trees, where a mound of flowers was piled several yards wide and almost as tall as she was. “I didn’t sleep because I was too excited about the idea, so I went foraging for us.”
Broomstick, Wolf, and Spirit blinked.
“Wow,” Wolf said. “You did all that while we were asleep?”
“Yup! And I also gathered some lolaro berries. They’re actually five times as caffeinated as coffee beans!”
“You don’t say,” Broomstick said. “How many have you had?”
Fairy stopped bouncing in place—only for a second—to stick her tongue out at him.
“Anyway,” she said, “as soon as it’s dark again, we can start burning flowers, and the perfume will carry our prayers up to Celestae. In the meantime, who wants somelolaro? They taste like cherries mixed with apricots and a dash of sunshine!” She skipped from Wolf to Broomstick to Spirit, offering the purple berries. No one extended their hands.
She couldn’t understand why.
Chapter Fourteen
Acouple hours later, Daemon carefully placed a stem of night jasmine in front of him. Without water, it had wilted a bit, but it still seemed to wake beneath the moonlight, delicate petals opening and releasing their powerful perfume.
Please work, he thought as he knelt on his rolled-up mat.
Daemon took a deep breath and began to recite a plea, but it was very different from yesterday’s.
Hey-o, he began.I’m going out on an arrogant limb and hoping that, because I might be your son, you’ll hear me. Kichona has fallen into the hands of a delusional maniac who worships Zomuri, who, you probably know, is also insane. The only ones who can stop him are me and my friends, but as you can see, we could use your help. Me, in particular. I switch from wolf to pathetically naked boy at random, which pretty much sums up our position. So will you do it? I could really use some fatherly guidance here. I mean, even if it’s not you, just someone up there, please help.
Was it too up front? Possibly. Requests to the gods weresupposed to be laden with deference and ceremony. But so far, the stiff approach hadn’t worked; maybe normal entreaties were just background noise in Celestae. Daemon hoped his informality would make his plea stand out.
As with yesterday, they kept praying steadily through the night, but they took breaks when the smoke got too thick, since it was compounded with the heady perfume of the flowers tonight.
As night gave way to early morning, Daemon began to sag on his mat. The brashness of his pleas shifted to dispirited resignation. At one point, he caught himself staring blankly at nothing in front of him, the flowers just a smoldering pile of ash.
