Page 76 of A City of Emeralds and Envy
“I’m not sure,” I whisper back. “But I have a feeling…”
It’s not like the tug I feel toward my half-brother, the awareness of his location. This is a whisper in my mind, a nebulous lure teasing me onward, up the stairs, until we reach a broad landing, richly carpeted, with a mosaic table standing by a glossy paneled door.
Other than the throne-room doors in the Emerald City, this is the finest door I’ve ever seen—beautifully carved from some rich, red-brown wood.
My fingers curl around the gilded handle, and when I press down, the door opens with a quietclick.
Slowly I push it open, my heart thundering so fast it’s almost to the point of pain.
And there he is. Standing by a half-open window, looking taller than ever. The breeze tosses his dark hair, and a thin black cloak swirls around him. The fading sunlight softens the green of his skin, turning the side of his face nearly golden.
For a moment neither of us move. It’s as if we’re suspended in time, our gazes woven together across the space between us. I’m barely conscious of Jasper behind me, of the spacious circular chamber, of the scrying stone resting in a stand at the room’s center.
Then West moves, quick as lightning. He reaches for his staff, leaning against the wall nearby, but I dive into it with my magic, agitating the tiniest cells of the wood, making it vibrate and heat so that he can’t hold it. He drops it, cursing, and raises his other hand, palm out.
Instantly, spirals of green mist rise from the floor and entwine my body and Jasper’s. The flow of my magic cuts off abruptly, and when I try to step forward, I can’t.
“I need you to listen,” says West. “I’ve been thinking since we parted, and I believe I have a plan that can get both of us what we want.”
“And what do you think I want?” I say acidly.
“You want to live.” His mouth curves in a slanted smile. “And you want your brother and his partner to retain their natural forms. AndIwant the Green Wizard gone.”
“But he’s a god-star. He’s impossible to kill.”
“It’s true, he can’t be killed. But he can be permanently trapped. Contained. And with your help, I—”
Something dashes into his face—a flash of sparkling liquid from an invisible source. West startles and wipes his cheek with the back of his hand. “What the fuck?”
A serrated white grin dances in mid-air, slowly joined by the Cat as he reappears, strip by strip, until his whole body is visible. He waggles the empty vial in West’s face. “Got you.”
West grabs for his staff again, but when he points it at Caer, nothing happens. At the same moment, the green mist he conjured drains away, leaving Jasper and me free to move.
“What the fuck have you done to me?” West stares—not at Caer, but at me. Anger and betrayal churn in his dark eyes.
“Water from the Well of Undoing,” I tell him. “Didn’t you see me take it from the vault?”
“I didn’t watch every second of your time in Caislean Brea,” he snaps. “I had my own research to do. And I thought I destroyed all those vials. Where did you find that? You didn’t bring it from the Village of Crows—they guard their supply too fiercely.”
“I found it in a box, buried under the shards of broken vials.”
“Shit.”
Caer whips out his claws, inspecting them casually. “Want me to slice his throat, Dorothy? That should do the trick. But Jasper can cut off his head, too, for good measure.” He darts toward West, who leaps away from him, putting a big armchair between himself and the Cat.
“You don’t want to kill me,” West says, darting a keen glance at me. “I know a way to trap the Green Wizard for good.”
“That’s a lie,” Caer says coolly. “A rather pathetic one, too, if you ask me. Desperation doesn’t suit you, Witch. But I suppose all the tormentors turn out to be cowards in the end. I heard what you did to my friends, torturing them with wretched dreams. Playing with their worst fears.” Teeth bared, he stalks toward West again, a hiss slipping between his parted jaws. “Say goodbye, swine.”
He bounds onto the chair, and West scrambles out of his reach.
“You don’t understand,” yells West. “If you kill me, then Dor—”
But his voice vanishes—jerked to a halt in his throat. Eyes wide, he struggles—tries to speak—but he can’t even form words.
“A bit of magic I perfected recently,” Riordan says, striding into the room. He casts a sidelong look at Alice, who’s by his side. “I had to interrogate quite a few Fae in my journey to find Caer. And as I told you, I don’t like screaming. This keeps them quiet until they’re ready to speak the truth, you see.”
Alice gives him a look of mingled admiration and horror.
