Page 26 of Taurus's Quest
“Don’t worry. If the seers told us it’s needed, then you can trust them.”
“Trust the fate of the world to a rock and a box of gears?”
Taurus snickered. “Circe’s still coming to grips with the fact you don’t always need a giant nuke like in Armageddon.”
She glared at him. “In my world, we rely on facts and science, not imaginary powers. But at least seeing this”—she waved her hand—“I have a little more faith we can actually build the device. I thought the tower was stuck in the Middle Ages, technology-wise.”
“Tower might struggle with some complex machines, but don’t you worry. You find those plans, and we’ll get it done,” Aquarius promised. “I’m going to guess by the load of books you’re carrying you need a translation?”
“Yeah, with mentions of the device and Labyrinth highlighted, please.”
“On it, but it will take a bit of time, as each page has to be scanned individually.”
“How long then?” Taurus asked.
“Should have the first one in a few hours. All of them done by morning. Lunchtime, at the latest.”
“What do we do in the meantime?” Circe glanced at Taurus.
“Want to check out the most incredible view of the stars?” he offered.
Probably the cheesiest line he’d ever uttered, and yet her smile… hot damn. In that moment, he would have given her the galaxy.
Chapter 8
Thankfully they didn’t have to climb the stairs to the top of Tower because the building—which Circe appreciated more and more—put them in a bubble to zoom them to the apex. Although, after they whizzed past the first few floors, she did have to ask, “How many levels are there?”
“Not sure, but supposedly it’s twelve thousand steps to the top. Divide that by twenty-five or so steps per floor and you end up with a shit ton.”
Her jaw dropped. “Impossible. Nothing can be that tall.”
“Nothing human-made,” he corrected.
Guess she shouldn’t be surprised Tower defied the laws of physics, seeing as how the building appeared capable of just about anything. “If humans didn’t build it, then who? Your Astraeus?”
“No one’s quite sure,” he said. “While Tower does its best to keep records of our past, there are gaps in our history from past disasters.”
“Meaning the Zodiac Warriors aren’t infallible.”
“We can die, but it takes a lot.”
“How long have you been doing this?”
“More than seventy years.”
“But you don’t look any older than thirty!” she exclaimed, and a handsome thirty at that. Without that hideous mop on his chin, his square-cut jaw, along with the rest of him, proved to be more appealing than expected. Before, he’d been a guy with a muscly bod. Now he was a hunk with a muscly bod—and each time she glanced in his direction, she couldn’t help but remember the brief yet electrifying kiss. A kiss he’d yet to repeat, and she couldn’t believe she kind of hoped he would now that he was clean-shaven.
“I moisturize,” he replied utterly deadpan, but the twinkle in his eyes told her he teased.
“You also use that gunk to heal.”
“It’s stardust,” he corrected. “Each constellation constantly sheds, and somehow those particles make their way to Tower into our jars. Given a warrior’s symbiotic relationship with the constellation, it repairs damage to our body.”
“Will you show me the result?” She’d seen the carnage of his back. Ribboned and bubbled—because he’d used himself as a shield to protect her from a blast that would have killed or severely maimed.
He turned in the still zooming bubble and lifted his shirt showing his wide back covered in a tattoo of his Zodiac sigil. the smooth flesh showed no sign of injury. She couldn’t help but reach and trace her fingers over the smooth flesh, murmuring, “Not even a scar.” A shiver went through him, probably reliving the trauma.
“I got lucky. Wounds not tended quickly can sometimes leave traces.”
