“Do you know where the missing magicals might be?” I asked, before he could start sashaying again. I realized I was smiling… because of him. Aside from Leviathan, I’d never been able to hold a conversation with a Purge beast. Sure, this might not have been a simple back and forth, but he understood me, and I understood him. Mostly. It felt as though some kind of bridge had been crossed, bringing me a little bit closer to understanding the nature of monsters. At least, these ones. And the most ironic part was that I hadn’t intended to get to know them. Before I’d come to the Institute, my goal had been control, but I was beginning to think I’d misunderstood what “control” could mean.
The pixie took off his walnut shell hat and scratched his head. Then, very decisively, he shook his head. My heart sank, only to leap again when the pixie held up his index finger. He pointed at himself then swooshed his arms in a circle, chattering the whole time.
“You think other pixies might know?” I prompted.
He grinned and nodded.
Thrilled to have a potential lead, I pressed on, lowering my voice so Nathan couldn’t hear. “Could it have something to do with the Door to Nowhere?”
A dark expression drifted across the pixie’s face. He lifted a finger to his lips and hovered terrifyingly close to my face, wings fluttering. Almost nose to nose, he lurched at me with spread arms and unleashed an almighty shriek that nearly made me crap my pants. He collapsed back onto my shoulder a second later, cackling to himself.
“Not funny!” I barked, but the pixie kept howling with laughter. “Answer the question!”
He shrugged, making the same circle gesture as before: he had no idea. I’d have to ask the rest of the pixies. I had hoped for a quicker solution so we could get straight to the saving-my-friend-from-a-dangerous-mystical-gateway part of the evening, but if it eventually led to Genie and the others, then I supposed we’d need more input from these funny little pests first.
I turned to Nathan. “I’m guessing you’ve got an exit strategy? You got in, so you can get us out of here, right?”
“Getting in was actually the easy part.” He lowered his gaze, his tone apprehensive. “The hexes prevent any non-authorized personnel from leaving, and we’d both be on that list. So would the pixie.”
I frowned. “But the pixie left once already.”
The pixie snorted and started running through a rapid charade of what had happened. He flew back up to the bookshelf and puffed out his cheeks like a bullfrog. Snapping out his arms, he ducked behind one of the books, then jumped back into view. He did this again and again until I understood what he was trying to say.
“You tried to get out, but the hexes stopped you?”
He nodded furiously.
I turned to Nathan. “Would a puzzle box work?”
“For the pixie, yes. For us—we don’t have one big enough.”
He’d made a joke, and Genie had missed it. I’d have to tell her that Mr. Humorless had some decent dad jokes. When I see her again.
“Can you deal with that?” I whispered, tilting my head discreetly in the pixie’s direction.
He nodded. “No problem.”
Behind his back, he slipped a puzzle box out of his pocket. Charging it with a press of the harp button, he hurled the entire thing at the bookshelf. The puzzle box sped through the air toward the pixie, giving the creature just enough time to screech at Nathan in disgust before he evaporated into a stream of black mist. As the puzzle box clattered to the ground, the black mist went with it, sucked inside the device until there was nothing left. The lid snapped shut and I lunged at the box, twisting the designs to make sure the pixie stayed put. He’d be free again soon, and I knew I’d get another earful for putting him there in the first place, but necessity called for it.
“He’s going to beat you to a pulp for this.” I brandished the box at Nathan.
He chuckled nervously. “Not if he gets to you first. Anyway, that’s the least of our worries.”
“Right, we need to figure out an escape route.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “You were planning on taking me with you, weren’t you?”
He looked affronted as he pocketed the puzzle box. “I’d have just spoken to you through the door if I wasn’t.” His eyes surveyed said door, his fingertips reaching out to touch the smooth wood. “And we need to hurry, before anyone else goes missing… or something worse happens.”
I’d said it before myself. But in my short time at the Institute, I’d learned categorically that things could always get worse.
Twenty-Three
Persie
Nathan closed his eyes and let his hands move across the doorway and the walls, thorough and calm. His mouth moved as he did so, whispering a spell: “Ut revelare speciem adsumendum. Ostende mihi viam. Quod patet iter. Fiat lux. Ut revelare speciem adsumendum. Veritatem revelare.” My Latin had never been great, but I guessed he was trying to figure out the locations of the hexes that held us prisoner.
Sure enough, on the fifth repetition, a ripple thrummed across my bedroom. Sigils just in front of the walls lit up like the Fourth of July, spaced at sporadic intervals. Some glowed amber, pulsing steadily, and some carried a deep red. Others were a stark, bold green that reminded me of Celtic knots, the strands of the hexwork intricately folding in on themselves. Two were a juddering violet, the edges crackling and fizzing with energy, too volatile to hold a defined shape.
“I’ve never seen these hex designs before,” I marveled. “They’re sort of… beautiful.”
Nathan laughed. “That’s dangerous talk, finding imprisonment hexes pretty, though it makes it easier to
