Crescent

16.2

 They trekked through the underbrush until the heat from the blaze disappeared completely behind them and the forest swallowed all glimpses of the once-proud manor of Project 0-29. The sun drifted high in the sky, but its golden glow was diminished by a swarm of dark gray clouds that slithered across the endless azure. Wind whipped through the canopy of emerald, wrenching leaves from spindly tree branches and threatening to tear Vera's hair from her low ponytail. She gritted her teeth against the cold bite, fighting the urge to shiver. It wasn't a fae's place to be bothered by trivial things like the weather, but even her bones ached with the pressure of an incoming storm.

They had come upon a clearing a short walk away from the house where the game trails were scarce. It was open enough that Vera could maneuver through the forest without too much obstruction but that Orion with his deformed, monstrous body would have a difficult time escaping her. The grass grew tall and wild, brushing Vera's knees as she scouted the edges of the circular area. She stowed her bag and coat beneath the roots of a young oak. Though she missed the soft touch of the deep blue coat, the embrace of her family's honor, her ears were still ringing with Wyn's last lesson. It was her coat that trapped her then, and she wouldn't let it happen twice.

Zeno scratched another rune into a nearby tree. White and blue ichor coated the underside of his claw-like nails on one hand, his finger rubbed raw from constantly scraping it against the bark as they walked, but he didn't seem to care. Once the symbol was etched, he pressed his palm against it to light it with magic. The air hummed with the electric energy, and it lifted the hair on Vera's arms beneath her coat as it coursed around her, a beacon that would lead Orion straight to them.

"You're bleeding," she said, watching cautiously as he stepped away.

He set his jaw and shook his hand. Focus on yourself.

"This ring of trees is a lot like a faerie circle. It almost feels right to summon him here." She turned, absorbing the fresh wooded air, untainted by smoke. It was still too far to see the city skyline of the Moon Court, but she relished the distance.

If you're asking me for some sort of dance to ease my nerves, I'm going to have to decline. Zeno heaved one of his breathy sighs. He folded his arms over his chest, eyes narrowed as he watched her.

For someone getting their first taste of the outside world, he was wound tight. She had expected him to want to frolic a little, to laugh silently and wickedly as he flung himself into the soft grass, relishing his release from the house and his chance to bask in the sunlight before the storm clouds swallowed it once more. He burned down his cage; there was nothing to bind him anymore. He had the power to relax, the privilege to let his guard down, and yet his white gaze was dark, etched with even darker circles. The eight-point star tattoo on his cheek was etched like a scar in his flawless alabaster skin.

Vera looked away and took Wyn's gun in both hands as she scanned the line of trees beyond Zeno's beacon. "I'm not one for dancing. I was just remarking on the irony."

Something in the woods snapped. Vera tensed, lifting the gun and staring down the barrel in the direction of the sound. Only the wind stirred, but the roar of blood in her ears was almost loud enough to drown out any sign of life. Her heart hammered against her ribs. From where she stood, the greenery looked the same as it had in her dream, though now it was washed gray beneath the faded sunlight rather than bathed in silver and drenched in shadows.

"You'd better hide if you want to be out of sight before he gets here." She adjusted the sights and peered into the underbrush, her muscles tight and waiting. The enchantments, freshly renewed by Zeno, hummed against her hands.