Matsdotter and Adrastus by Aelina Isaacs

Author:Aelina Isaacs [Aelina Isaacs]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Aelina Isaacs
Published: 2024-01-02T00:00:00+00:00

I stay on the island until Archeon arrives, and even then I don’t want to leave. It’s not that I don’t want to go home, or that I don’t want to see Elochian tonight. But it’s the first time I’ve felt protected since all this bullshit with River started, completely safe. I know I can’t hide forever, but it’s tempting. The gifts from Arlo are a comfort, at least.

A ring that can form a twenty-four hour shield which works against physical and magickal attacks.

A notebook that when activated, will dictate the events going on in the surrounding vicinity. It also has a code word that causes the thing to detonate. Because of course it does.

A pen charged with five offensive spells, charmed to work like a wand. It is my understanding that the attacks are similar to magick missiles, which increase in ferocity with each cast.

A small, wicked boot knife. There is no magick to it, but Arlo seemed to think having a blade on me would be a good idea. It only made me sick, but I didn’t complain, considering he’s right. There’s a partner to the blade, one that can strap to a small holster on my thigh. Why I would need one there is beyond me.

And lastly, a bottle of enchanted ink, should I decide to take him up on his offer.

I stand in the hallway and watch the Rook family gathered inside the den, having done my part by making introductions. I don’t know if it was because I expected Arlo and Archeon to go at it like feral cats or what, but the whole thing was kind of anti-climatic. They exchanged brooding hellos, and Arlo thanked the Teleth for coming.

Archeon had glanced at me and said, “Thank him, not me.”

Now, he and Felix sit together on the big couch, while Silas and Arlo watch them from the smaller one. Archeon, or Mr. Mochizuki as Felix says, reaches into his vest pocket and retrieves a small, glass jar. He opens it, overturning its contents onto the coffee table. Seashells. Marbles. Coins. Silver beads. Wooden buttons. Tiny scraps of fabric and odd bits of thread. Teeth. Bone fragments.

Archeon wrinkles his nose, chewing his gum with renewed conviction. The other witches lean forward, curious, especially Arlo. He didn’t have this when he was Felix’s age, a teacher. Then again … did he ever?

Archeon shifts his gaze to Felix, who snaps to attention. Archeon tilts his head, considering the boy. He says, “Tell me about yourself.”

Felix blinks. He glances over at Arlo, who says nothing, only nods. He clears his throat, looking between Archeon and the bits on the table. “I—I can feel what other people are feeling. I can hear them, sometimes. Lately I—I’ve been moving stuff. Not when I mean to, though. If I try, it’s—it doesn’t work.”

Archeon nods. “Right, but what about you?”

“Me?”

“Yes. Who are you? Who is Felix Rook?”

Felix sighs, releasing a breath bigger than he is. He’s grown these past few months, both in height and meat on his bones, but he’s still a kid.

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