Everyone froze. Time became still to the point where it was suffocating. I was sure that if we were outside, crystalline pieces of ice would have frozen mid-air. Not just from the tension that had been stretched taut and about to break, but it was Sana herself. Her presence, her demeanor, her voice—everything about her screamed authority to the point where I knew it just had to be a supernatural influence on the world around us.
But I’ve always been good at talking when I wasn’t supposed to.
“Ravok,” I croaked, “I heard that name before. At the council. You’re Table?” It was less of a question and more of a statement.
She smiled at me. “You speak of my former family. Now drop the circle, I won’t ask again.”
“Don’t do it,” Mina hissed. “They’ll swarm us.”
Yokocho, who happened to be inside the circle with us, looked at me with wide kittnen eyes. “Ah, I believe it might be prudent to drop it.”
I jerked my shoulder towards Mina, never taking my eyes off of Sana Ravok. “You heard what she said. If I’m going to die anyway, might as well keep the circle up.”
Sana raised an eyebrow. “For what purpose?”
“Go out fighting? Buy time? Oh, I don’t know. Just to be contrary as a big fuck you to the face of everyone here?”
Akasa stepped up. She had been among the three others who accompanied Sana. “Summoner, this is foolishness. Why have you started this conflict? You were promised chance of audience.”
“We didn’t start it,” I said, then pointed with my knife towards the crowd of preternaturals. “They did. They laid a hand on my—” I stopped myself from saying friend, “—acquaintance.”
The perfect ice sculpture that was Sana’s face cracked, and the woman frowned. “Have they?”
And the entire crowd flinched.
There was a small fluttering of wings, and I saw a monstrous-looking bee-fairy hybrid dart back into the cage. Its mandibles, lined with human teeth, retreated into its face and formed an anthropological mouth again. She reached behind herself, tearing off her own insectoid wings. It spoke in harsh Chinese to the hog-headed preternatural. He sheepishly closed the cage for her.
And to think I had felt bad for the thing. Another nightmare fuel for Jain. Yippee.
“Either way, you must drop the Circle, Jain Hallow,” Sana said. “I will grant you guest rights should you do so. You have my word.”
I hesitated, looking at Mina. She looked like she wanted to say something, but was holding back.
“Your choice, my Practitioner,” Wol said. “But I believe she speaks truth.”
Then slowly, I reached out with my Eldritch Knife and cut the connections of the working. The power being supplied from Wol faded, and with it, Hwari’s circle dissipated. I nearly fell to my knees and saw that the sigils I’d drawn on my cast had disappeared. They’d been drained of their power, used to power the abjurational working.
The purplish light that filled the air winked out of existence. Leaving me and the others surrounded by a whole crowd of angry preternaturals.
With the crisis on pause, I finally got a good look at her.
She was blonde. Like really, really, really, light blonde, to the point where her short shaggy hair was more platinum than golden. But her complexion was even paler, and I didn’t know that was possible. She had one of those faces: high cheekbones, a pointed nose, wide and defined eyes that kept changing colors.
She was, in a sense, what you’d call beautiful.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
Oh, since I’ve been in the supernatural world, I’ve seen plenty of eye-catching, men-devouring, dressed-up things meant to look pretty to the mortal eye. But those always held an edge, a certain darkness behind the beautiful. Like how flowers can have thorns. One example that immediately came to mind was Rosefinch the Vampyr.
Sana didn’t have any of that. She was what ancient European sculptors wanted in front of them when they wanted to recreate Helen of Troy. Painters would be lucky to gaze upon her shadow, to embody even a droplet of her true beauty in their works. I knew that she was the type of woman that men pined after, and simultaneously was intimidated by. It didn’t matter that she wore overalls and a t-shirt. No clothing could change what she was. Andromeda, Cleopatra, Yang Guifei—Sana had been born into this world riding the same vein of women whose names are touted when debating the most beautiful of history.
I only realized I was staring because Mina pinched me on the arm.
I noticed some of the preternaturals take a step towards us, closing the circle.
Akasa growled, keeping them in check.
Shit. Maybe Mina was right. I shouldn’t have dropped the circle after all.
But that was the human Jain speaking. The practitioner Jain inside of me knew that Sana was bound by her word, especially in a Hidden Place like this. The fact that a freaking pocket dimension existed with its own ruleset meant that there had to be a catch. One was that magic was more powerful here. There was no way my eldritch flames and abjurational working could work on this grand a scale without a small boost. That meant the rules of magic were stronger here.
Someone of Sana’s station would not make promises easily. Broken promises…. Well, they have a price in this world.
“The circle’s down,” I said. “Now what?”
“Now, we talk,” Sana said. “You have broken the rules of this place.”
“What rule?” I asked.
Sana gave me a blithe look. “Tell me, Shaman. How did you enter the Slums?”
“Slums?” I asked. It hit me a moment later. “This place is called the Slums? I thought it was called Sana’s Cafe.”
“Stop interrupting the lady, summoner,” Akasa growled.
“It’s fine, Akasa,” Sana said with a sigh that sounded like it meant the opposite of what she just said. “Yes, Shaman. This place is called the Slums. Outsiders may refer to it by my name, but that is because they are outsiders; they cannot enter, nor see it for what it is. But this Lost Place existed long before I set foot here. It was, and is, called the Slums. Now, how did you enter this place?”
The bakeneko cleared his throat. “Why, it was me, Lady Sana. I invited them in.”
“Without permission, might I add,” Sana said dryly. “I sense two others. Who are they?”
“Geistheilers.”
“Did you enlighten those of your accompaniment to the laws of the Slums, merchant?” Sana asked in a tone that said she knew the answer.
“Rules?” I asked tentatively.
Sana nodded. “Rules. All places like these have rules, Shaman. Those who can enter, those who can stay, those who are allotted a specific amount of time. Did you think this place was one of your mortal places of festivity where anyone can waltz in and out?”
“Er, no. But I thought it was a place where we could come in if we had an invitation,” I said, shooting a glare at Yokocho. “What is this rule?”
“There are only two ways that someone may enter this place,” Sana said. “One is to be looking for a place of refuge.”
I frowned, thinking. “Refuge could mean a lot of different things.”
Sana raised an eyebrow. “Rumors don’t do you justice, young Shaman. Yes. It means all of those things, and then some more, Shaman.”
“What is she talking about?” Mina whispered. She looked more nervous now that I chose to put the circle down.
I casually bent down and picked up the wardstones I’d used to power the circle. I was growing cold now. Crap. “The word, refuge. That’s the keyword of this place,” I said, biting down on my molars and thinking some more. Sana made eye contact with me and gestured for me to continue. “It basically means someplace safe.”
“That’s a good thing, no?”
Wol joined in. “That depends on who is looking for it, young one.”
“Criminals on the run could be looking for a refuge. Someone who’s just looking to hide. You could be seeking shelter in a storm or a fire. It could also be a type of spiritual thing. The bible talks about it all the time. Refuge for the weary and all that jazz,” I said.
“Yes. Those who are seeking refuge can fall into this place. Those with nowhere left to go but here,” Sana said. She held up a finger, then slowly lifted the other with it. “Second, only those who fit the definition of a victim can come and go as they please.”
“That sounds like the same rule,” Mina growled.
“It’s not,” I said blithely, getting a sinking feeling. “Think about it. One is that you fall here unwillingly but you’re happy to be here. The other isn’t that you fall in, but you know that this place exists. But it’s like a closed invitation. Unless you fit the definition of someone needing this refuge, you aren’t supposed to be here at all.”
I heard the sharp intake of breath as Mina understood. “We aren’t looking for a safe place.”
“Crap,” I agreed.
“So, bakeneko. How many have you brought into this place?”
“Three, my lady. The wonder Jain Hallow, the stunning Mina Baek, and a Geistheiler.”
Sana seemed to think for a moment. “The Geistheiler and the Shaman can stay.”
It was like solving a multiple-choice question. By elimination, they didn’t want to talk about me (the Shaman) and the Geistheiler any longer. That meant there was only one topic that they could discuss. Which was…
Oh, hell.
Mina.
“The Society Practitioner must earn passage,” Sana finished, just as I reached the same conclusion.
Oh, fucking hell.