“It’s Lacey,” snaps the Piscene girl, wrenching her arm free. “I’ve told you so ten times, Taurian! And it’s not a drug, it’s a pathway to the stars—”
“Will you two cut it out already,” says an Aquarian Acolyte holding an empty tray. She looks at Mathias and me, on the verge of apologizing for her companions—and then squeals instead.
“Mother Rho!”
Before I can react, she snaps a picture of me with her Philosopher’s Stone. “I’m Mallie. It’s an honor to meet you.”
“Nice to meet—”
“Oh, my Helios!” cries out Lacey, cutting me off and coming closer to inspect my features. “It’s you! I can’t believe I’m meeting you!”
“I told you,” says the Taurian, rolling her eyes. She turns to me, and in an all-business tone that matches her competitive stare, she says, “Hello Holy Mother, I’m Fraxel Finnigan, of House Taurus.” She checks out Mathias next. “And you are?”
“Blessed Empyrean, are all Taurians as rude as you?” asks Lacey. She sets down her tray of pink drinks, then faces Fraxel, hands planted on her hips.
“We’re not rude, we’re efficient. Maybe if you people pulled your head down from Space and actually took an interest in the tangible world around you—”
“What was it like facing him?”
Mallie’s large, glassy eyes reflect the Cancrian glyph of my crown. Even though her voice is soft, her question is loud enough to quiet the other girls. All three faces turn to me.
“Terrifying,” I admit, stealing a look at Mathias, who’s heard me tell this story more times than anyone. He seems distracted, and I wonder if he’s thinking about the talk we almost had. “It’s like fighting a solid person who can wield the power of wind, ice, and fire, and you have no way to defend yourself . . . because you can’t touch him back.”
Mallie holds her hand to her chest, turning the Philosopher’s Stone between her fingers. The device is encased in a lead pendant that hangs from a silver chain around her neck, and its design varies according to clan. Mallie’s pendant is shaped like an owl. “How did you survive?” she whispers.
“Luck,” I admit, thinking back to each time I faced Ochus. If I hadn’t been able to close the black opal or rip off the Ring—or if Ochus hadn’t decided destroying Virgo took priority over me—I wouldn’t be here right now. The knowledge fills me with a sense of doom, the kind I get in the Ephemeris when I sense an opposition in the stars. I have no idea how to survive this.
“How did it feel . . . knowing you were going to die?”
The Aquarian and Piscene stare at Fraxel. Even she seems surprised to hear herself ask a question more appropriate to the spiritual and philosophical realms.
“Lonely,” I admit. “Not in the moment I was facing him—when you’re fighting for your life, adrenaline numbs a lot of those thoughts.” I feel the full force of Mathias’s stare on me now, but I don’t look back. “It’s not even death that’s lonely. . . . I think it’s surviving. Because afterwards, you realize you did die—the person you were before is gone—and while everyone around you is pressing onward, you’re learning to become a person all over again.”
A couple of drunken Capricorns—one tall, one short—bump into Lacey, and she stumbles on her long veil, knocking over the glasses. “I knew that was going to happen!” gripes Fraxel, ducking to help Lacey clean up. Then, in a more muted tone, she says, “I need to check in at my embassy, so I can return your tray if you want.”
“Thanks,” says Lacey. She holds up her palm to press with Fraxel’s just as the Taurian sticks out her arm for a handshake.
“On Taurus, we shake,” says Fraxel, squeezing Lacey’s hand in demonstration.
“We press palms,” says Lacey, showing her how.
A strange understanding seems to pass between them, and with a jolt, I realize that in ordinary times, they never would have had this chance to meet. It saddens me to think of the price we’ve paid for this moment—the Cancrians, Virgos, and Geminin who had to give their lives for the Zodiac to come together.
As Fraxel wends her way to the Taurian embassy, ripples in the crowd push us farther up the hill. The four of us search the street below for the source of the commotion: The Aerians have erected a ring for holographic wrestling.
A couple of Aerian fighters step inside in red uniforms, wearing protective gear and helmets. The first man’s body flickers, like he’s transforming from human to hologram, and then I gasp as his image morphs and expands into a ten-foot tall snake-like creature with rippling arms and huge fangs. The second man becomes a lizard monster with talons and a lethal stinger on his tail. Both are imaginary versions of Ophiuchus.