Sam’s stomach growled. “Did you bring anything to eat?”
“I managed to swipe a Stygian apple.”
Her eyes sparkled. “Where is it?”
Zenith offered a sheepish smile.
Sam frowned and crossed her arms. “Let me guess. Big-eyed kid, massive sob story.” She sighed. “You’re such a softie.”
“Actually, he was a dragon shifter, I think. Shivering up a storm.”
“Even as warm as it is, it’s too cold here for their kind.”
“He doesn’t know how to get home either.”
Sam giggled. “Naturally.” She stifled a yawn. “Between your magic fritzing all the time, my nightmares, and being a couple of suckers with tender hearts, it’s a wonder we survive at all.”
Zenith snorted. “True enough.”
“I’m going check the traps. Wanna come?”
“Can’t do anything else right now.”
Together, they exited the tiny shack. Seagulls called overhead, soaring on the tide winds. At the far end of the fishing dock, Sam grasped a rope and pulled it up. Two fish flapped in the bottom of the basket.
“Think you can start a fire with that?” She gestured toward Zenith’s sword.
“No, but I can write my name.” Zenith demonstrated.
“Useful.” Sam pursed her lips.
A rustle in the shrubs nearby set Zenith on edge, and she crouched down to get a better look. She peered into the orange-green leaves. Were those slit eyes that stared out?
Zenith jerked her head toward the hiding place. “Do you see anything over there?”
“Did anybody follow you?”
“Dragon-shifter boy did for a block, but not after I gave him the Stygian apple.”
“Hmm.” Sam flipped the fish to descale the other side. She took her time turning around. If somebody watched them, they didn’t need to know they’d been caught yet. When she settled back in place beside the fire, she whispered, “It’s something alright. Small and squat, though. Maybe the boy?”
“Could be.”
Sam sat back on her heels. “Lovely.” She dropped the trap back down into the water. “Two fish for three people.”
“Maybe he won’t come out.”
“Wishful thinking,” Sam said. She turned the fish once more and declared them ready for cooking. “I hope these turn out decently.”
Zenith’s stomach rumbled, and she pressed a hand to her middle. “Decent will be a feast,” she said. “We didn’t eat yesterday.”
They made their way back to the bank. Zenith jogged back inside, grabbed a knife and a beat-up skillet. Then she returned to pile kindling in a small mound while Sam prepped the fish.
Zenith snapped her fingers once and frowned when a flame didn’t appear on her fingertips. “Your turn,” she said.
Sam tugged a lighter from her pocket to light a small fire. She tossed the fish onto the pan. “I’ve been thinking,” she said.
“What’s that?” Zenith asked, her eyes drawn back to the trembling bush. The eyes glinted in the light, and Zenith once more caught sight of the slit eyes that stared out.
“We need help.”
Zenith scowled. “With what?”
Sam gestured toward her own head. “This.” Then she gestured toward the blade still attached to Zenith’s arm. “That.”
Zenith tucked it behind her body. “What are you talking about?”
“I heard there’s a magic school in the mortal side of the world.”
Zenith shook her head. “We leave the mortals alone, and they leave us alone. It’s a fine arrangement. I’d like to keep it that way.”
Sam stretched and then lifted the pan from the fire. “I’ve heard good things about New Haven City. Maybe somebody there could take you in and give you magic lessons.”
“Not somebody like me.”
“Why not?”
“Everybody knows blue feet are hybrids. Most of them are mercenaries. I’ve spent most of my life thieving around Unseen Street.” Who would take somebody like me?
“I don’t think the mortals have the same feelings about hybrids. There’s a magical school in Bayburgh, too. Maybe they would teach you how to use your magic.”
Zenith tucked the sword behind her body. “Why would I care about a school in the mortal world?”
“Then you could undo your spells without waiting for them to wear off.”
“I don’t have to wait for them to wear off.”
Sam rolled her eyes. “Did you even try to summon that thing?”
Zenith’s cheeks heated. “I must have since it showed up.”
“You’re right. What was I thinking?” She sighed. “Let’s go inside.”
On their way in, something in the wind tickled Zenith’s nose, and she sneezed. A moment after, the sword’s magical glow winked out. Triumphant, Zenith held up her hand, glad she hadn’t accidentally sliced her leg in two. “See? All it takes is a sneeze.”
Sam gave her friend a dark look, but cut another yawn short. “If you could learn how to magic, you could teach me how to magic. Maybe I could get some decent sleep once in a while,” she muttered.
For the first time, Zenith wondered if her friend might be right. Maybe learning how to magic was as important as having it. Since Zenith’s parents had abandoned her, she always believed her magic skills would eventually “come on.” Like instincts or milk on a mother mooncat. But it didn’t seem to happen that way. Everyone had a spark. The actual usefulness of the spark had much to do with the training of the spark.
“Call your friend inside,” Sam said.
“If we feed him, he’ll never leave.”
“True enough,” Sam said. “But we have a vacancy.”
“Oh?”
“We don’t have a mascot. Maybe he wouldn’t mind serving in that capacity until I can conjure something.”
“Hmph,” Zenith said. Then she took two steps toward the door and stopped at the threshold. She leaned toward the shrubs and waved. “You coming? Though, you shouldn’t be hungry after that piece of fruit.”
Slowly, a figure straightened out of the bush. “How’d you know it was me?”
“We can smell dragon-shifters,” Zenith yelled and then stepped back inside. She took a seat on her crate and Sam took a seat on the bed. They placed the pan between them.
A shadow
