Daughter of Smoke and Bone - Laini Taylor [53]
Folded in his pocket, its creases worn smooth from much handling, was a page torn from a sketchbook—number ninety-two, as was printed on its spine. On the page, which had been the first in the book, a drawing showed Karou with her hands clasped in supplication, accompanied by the words: If found, please return to Krâlodvorskâ 59, no. 12, Prague. You will be rewarded with cosmic goodwill and hard cash. Thank you.
Akiva hadn’t brought the whole book with him, just this one page with its ragged edge. He wasn’t after cosmic goodwill or hard cash.
Just Karou.
With the infinite patience of one who has learned to live broken, he awaited her return.
24
FLYING IS EASY
Flying, Karou discovered to her delight, was easy. Exhilaration chased away her weariness, and with it the apathy that had settled over her after too many encounters with Brimstone’s tooth-traders. She flew high, marveling at the stars and feeling as though she were among them. They were almost beyond belief. Give Bain that, at least. He might have no decorating sense, but he lived in the company of stars. The sky looked sugared.
She left the cabin behind and followed the road back in the direction of Boise. She dipped up and down, through tiers of wind. She toyed with speed—effortless, though it left her eyes streaming icy tears. It wasn’t long before she overtook the taxi that had abandoned her to the wilds. Devious scenarios played in her mind. She might fly alongside and knock on the window, shake her fist before launching upward again.
Wicked girl, she thought, and she heard Brimstone’s voice in her head, decrying such mischief as reckless. Well, maybe a little.
The wish itself, though—flying—and the plan that it was part of, what would he think of that? What would he think when Karou turned up on his doorstep, her hair mussed from the wind of two worlds? Would he be glad to see her, or would he still be furious, and roar at her that she was a fool, and cast her out once more? Was she supposed to find him, or did he want her to go on like a butterfly out a window, without a backward glance, as if she’d never even had monsters for a family?
If he expected her to do that, he didn’t know her at all.
She was going to Morocco to find Razgut beneath whichever trash heap or donkey cart he was hiding, and together—together! It made her cringe to even think the word connecting herself to him—they would fly through a slash in the sky and emerge “Elsewhere.”
It struck her that this was what Brimstone had meant by “hope makes its own magic.” She hadn’t been able to simply wish open a portal, but by the strength of her will, of her hope, when she might have given up her chimaera for lost, she had instead done this. She had found a way. Here she was, flying, and a guide waited to take her where she wanted to go. She was proud, and she believed that Brimstone would be, too, whether he showed it or not.
She shivered. It was cold in the sky, and her glee at flying was giving way to chattering teeth and the return of her exhaustion, so she set herself down in the middle of the road, making her first landing as easily as if she’d done it a thousand times, and waited for the taxi to catch up to her.
The driver, needless to say, was surprised to see her. He looked at her like she was a ghost, and spent more time peeking at her in the rearview mirror on the way back to the airport than he did watching the road. Karou was too tired to even think it was funny. She let her eyes close and reached into the collar of her coat for the wishbone, tucking its flanges neatly between her fingers.
She was almost asleep when her phone rang. Zuzana’s name lit up its screen. Karou answered, “Hello, rabid fairy.”
Snort. “Shut up. If anyone’s a fairy, it’s you.”
“I’m not a fairy. I’m a monster. And guess what. Speaking of fairies, do I have a surprise for you.