Page 124 of By the Orchid and the Owl
“Tell him to stop talking like he’s being serious! I didn’t sign up for this shit!”
For the first time since the butterflies had converged on her, Jenia’s head rotated toward Quinn. Enough of the insects had fluttered to a perch on her shoulders or arms or head that I could see the utterly fathomless grayness in her eyes.
“You told me you hated her,” Jenia said, nodding ever so slightly at me. “And him.” She nodded at Lander’s panther form. “And the little—excuse me—bigslut he chose to treat better than he treated you. So what’s your problem?”
“What’s my problem?” Quinn yelped. “My problem is that… thatdislikingthem doesn’t mean I’m going to help you guysmurderthem.”
She pushed out a laugh that might have sounded genuine to anyone else but the childhood friends who had grown up with her: it was too high-pitched, too airy compared to her real one.
“If I wanted to kill everyone I felt moody toward, half the island would be dead. Including you at times, Jenia. Come on.” She reached out and grabbed Jenia’s arm. “We’ve had our fun. We’ve scared them shitless. Let’s go.”
Jenia didn’t yank away her arm, but she didn’t follow Quinn, either.
“You’ll never get another chance like this, Balkersaff,” Fergus sang over his shoulder, beginning to stalk closer once more with that dagger clutched tight in one fist.
In a flash, I thought of my mother’s knife, perpetually tucked away in the confines of my bag. Fabian had told me I’d never need to use it, but this… this would have been a good instance to have it clutched in my hand as firmly as Fergus held his dagger. Even if I’d never used a knife like that before.
“I’ve been trying to do this for ages now,” Fergus said, “but Rayna’s always guarded—by that Steeler asshole, or by one of his friends. Even after I’d heard they’d broken things off, one of your Element Wielder upperclassmen scorched my ass for getting a little too close to her.”
Terrin. Terrin had saved me without my knowledge. Gratitude swelled within me, just as my brain landed on the flimsiest of plans.
But a flimsy plan, after all, was better than nothing.
Just as I made to move, Fergus cut a single significant glance back at the Object Summoner, who nodded back, and—
Rocks flew up from the jungle floor, ranging in size from marbles to pentaballs.
I didn’t even have time to shield myself or cry out before one slammed into my head from behind, pitching me forward onto my knees.
Through ringing ears, I heard Emelle’s scream as a rock knocked her off Lander’s back. I heard Lander’s yowl and Fergus’s chuckle.
“Just wanted to give you a little taste of what’s to come!” he called.
More rocks flung themselves at us from every direction, and—no, Lander, stop.My vision spun around the image of the panther launching himself through the rocks, toward Fergus, who would surely be waiting for him with the dagger or with an explosion of mold.
The Good Council wouldn’t fault him for self-defense.Whether that was true or not, Fergus seemed to believe it, which meant he wouldn’t hesitate to kill Lander as soon as Lander reached him.
Another rock smashed into my stomach. An upsurge of hot bile shot up my throat, but I didn’t let that stop me.
Scrambling up, trying to blink away the spots of darkness in my vision, I grabbed one of those fallen rocks and took aim. Moss painted its surface, so much like the last rock Quinn had placed on my windowsill in Alderwick that my vision warped with tears.
I wasn’t physically strong enough, I knew, to throw it so hard and fast that it would hit Fergus before Lander got to him.
But through my haze of pain and the stray butterflies around Jenia, I caught Quinn’s frantic eye.
And a burst of wind brought my hand forward and carried the rock straight into Fergus’s face.
Blood sprouted from his nose. Fergus screamed. The Summoner stopped, and Lander lurched to a halt—though not of his own accord. Quinn’s wind pushed him back toward Emelle, who was sobbing on the jungle floor.
Fergus pivoted toward me, panting at the sight of me holding another rock.
“You only ever wanted me,” I spat. “So come get me, Fungus.”
CHAPTER
47
Iknew that little nickname—Fungus—would be the thing that got him.
