Theo woke before dawn the next morning, when the sun was just a faint pink streak at the horizon. The crests of the waves glimmered pink as well, but otherwise the sea was dark. Theo might have found it beautiful if his nerves weren't wound so tight.
At least he'd managed to sleep a decent amount, thanks to Lodo's lavender chamomile tea. He would need all the energy he could muster for the upcoming battle.
They would meet with the Enson representative at seven. As he sat down for a hearty breakfast of Lodo's best French toast and fresh-brewed coffee, he tried to focus on chewing and swallowing every bite. Not on the noises coming from Darian's bedroom, where she was having Ryan try on disguises. Not on Sam practically hopping up and down in her seat beside him, buzzing from both excitement and caffeine. Not on all the ways this plan could go wrong.
As he finished off the French toast, he felt a little spark inside his chest. Like a shard of crystalline light. Heart throbbing, he looked across the table to meet Zenith's calm smile.
It didn't relax his nerves entirely, but he found he could breathe a little easier.
A door slammed from upstairs, followed by footsteps tromping down the staircase. "All right," Darian said as she stopped at the bottom. "What do you think?"
Ryan came up behind her, looking more sheepish than Theo had ever seen him. His hair was hidden under a shaggy black wig, while chunky glasses covered his eyes. Darian had painted a very convincing five o'clock shadow on his jaw, which combined with a shirt and tie – Zenith's, no doubt – made him look more like an overworked office employee than an insufferable prep.
A grin spread across Theo's face, despite himself. "You look great."
"Fuck you," Ryan grumbled.
"So? Could we be related?" Smirking, Darian tilted her head toward Ryan.
"Well...you both have black hair," Sam supplied.
"Ah, it'll work," Darian said breezily, strutting into the kitchen. "Is that French toast I smell?"
Theo watched carefully as Ryan came up behind her, shoulders slouched and steps shuffling. He probably wasn't putting on a deliberate act, just sulking out of embarrassment, but it did help to sell the disguise. Not a trace of his usual arrogance to be seen.
With breakfast done, they headed to the boat tied up at the dock near the beach house. The morning breeze was chilly, and it would only get colder once they got onto the water, making Theo glad he'd worn his jacket. Even so, he shivered a little.
Zenith noticed, of course. "Theo." He stepped a little closer. "It will be all right."
"I know." Theo breathed out, trying to relax the pressure gripping his chest. No matter what, this coming battle couldn't be half as terrible as his last encounter with Victor.
Without thinking, he reached out and took Zenith's hand. Zenith blinked, but didn't pull away, and Theo squeezed harder. Who cared if anyone saw.
When a lanky figure bobbed up beside him and snatched his other hand, he jolted. Only for Sam's smiling face to fill his vision, her eyes bright. Just like when they had first met, on that cold winter day so long ago.
"Let's kick some Enson ass!" she said, winking.
"Yeah." Theo tightened his grip around her hand as well, and found he could finally draw a full breath. Hand in hand with his familiar and best friend, he stepped onto the boat.
It rocked a bit, making his stomach flip, but he kept his balance. After putting on his life jacket, he sat down in the back seats with Sam and Zenith. Ryan was already in the row ahead, muttering under his breath and cracking his knuckles.
"You seem pretty eager," Theo said. "What gives? No offense, but didn't pin you as the type to free prisoners out of the goodness of your heart."
"If it makes Oliver Enson cry, I'm all for it!" Ryan declared. Oh, if only everyone could be so simple.
With everyone on board, Meg started the motor. The rendezvous point was a small, uninhabited island offshore, which would take about an hour to reach. They cut across the water at a speedy clip, the rushing wind and rumbling motor drowning out all other sounds.
Including Theo's own thoughts, and all for the better. He leaned back and let the cool salt spray brush his face, watching as the sun climbed above the horizon and splashed shards of sparkling light across the sea.
So beautiful. He could have stayed like this forever. But eventually a dark shape appeared in the distance, causing Meg and Lodo to visibly tense. Theo sat upright as well, his chest tightening.
The island was bare except for a few rocks and scraggly patches of beach grass, which gave Theo a clear view of the boat resting in the shallows and the man standing on the shore. His heartbeat picked up, thundering in his ears until it drowned out even the motor.
Carefully, Meg steered them in to the island. When they reached the shallows, she cut the motor. In the sudden quiet, Theo's heart pounded even louder.
One by one they removed their life vests and got off the boat. The man on the island watched them in silence, gaze inscrutable behind sunglasses.
As soon as the last passenger disembarked, the man approached. He was short and stocky, dressed in a black suit like a bodyguard. When he reached the group, he took off the sunglasses to reveal a heavy-jowled face that reminded Theo of a bulldog.
Lodo stiffened and let out a sharp breath that sounded uncannily like a hiss. The man squinted his beady eyes, appraising Lodo critically.
"Well, well," he said, low and guttural. "If it isn't Lodovico."
"Gratiano." Theo had never heard Lodo's voice like this, taut with barely suppressed distaste. "I should have known it would be you."
Meg glanced between Lodo and the man, looking as lost as Theo. "Excuse me? Do you know him, Lodo?"
"Greetings, Lady Margaret Wetherill." The man pressed his hand to his chest and dipped his head in a bow. "I am Gratiano of the Cane clan, the personal familiar and servant to Master Oliver Enson. Allow me to receive you in the young master's stead."
"Of course," Meg said, though she still sounded puzzled.
"It's quite a pleasant surprise to see you here today," Gratiano continued, dripping with smug satisfaction. "After all, the Wetherills aren't exactly known for their...approval...of the Ensons' way of doing business. Didn't you tell me I had 'sold my soul,' Lodovico?"
He chuckled as if enjoying a private joke. Lodo lifted his chin, his whiskers twitching, hand clenched in a straining fist. Worry spiked inside Theo; he had never seen the normally serene werecat so on edge before.
"Well." Meg cleared her throat and stepped forward, holding out her hands. "Always nice to run into old acquaintances again. It's true that I would normally try to avoid dealing with you Ensons, but today I'm here for my students' sake."
She nodded at Sam behind her, who jolted like she'd been called on in class. "Yeah! Yeah, that's right!" she squeaked. "I'm looking for a strong familiar!"
"Me as well," Darian said. Thankfully, she sounded a lot more convincing than Sam.
"We've tried all the usual methods but haven't had much luck finding any that meet our standards," Meg said, shaking her head. "So we'd like to see if you have any promising candidates among your...collection."
"That shouldn't be a problem," Gratiano said with a chuckle. "We have it all – nephilim, weres, sprites, demons, even golems. As long as you're able to pay, you're sure to find the familiar of your dreams."
"I'm a Wetherill." Meg said it in a tone that invited no dissent. Lifting her chin to glare down at Gratiano, she looked so haughty Theo almost couldn't recognize his playful teacher.
What must it be costing her to maintain this facade, to act like the snobby wizard heir she'd rejected being all those years ago? Warm gratitude flooded Theo's chest, dissolving some of his tension.
"Of course." Smug as ever, Gratiano clapped his hands together. "Then shall we?"
Beside Theo, Ryan leaned forward in ill-hidden anticipation. He was trembling from head to toe, sweat beading on his temples. Theo wondered if he should give Ryan a nudge, remind him to act more natural, but that was when his Levia gave a violent jolt.
And a diagram flared across the entire island, glowing fiery orange. Theo stumbled, only for Zenith to catch his forearm. Grateful, Theo turned toward his familiar, but the blazing light had already swallowed his vision.
With the light came a horrible pressure pounding inside his skull, building and building until he thought it might burst open. He could almost hear the Levia storming around him, like hundreds of voices furiously chanting just out of earshot. Only Zenith's strong grip kept him anchored within the maelstrom.
The pressure rose to a crescendo, rumbling through his bones, then his ears popped and he stumbled forward into sudden darkness.
He blinked a few times to clear the bright spots from his vision. The floor was solid beneath his feet, made of worn-down stone. Just like the walls that pressed around them, trapping them inside a narrow corridor. The flickering glow from the wall torches cast their faces half in shadow, but Theo could tell everyone else was just as unnerved as he was.
"What – what was that?" Sam's shrill cry broke the silence. "Did you just open that arena?"
She directed this at Gratiano, who looked smugger than ever. "The arena portal is always present, maintained by the young master and his family. It will open for anyone who is associated with their Levia, such as their familiars."
Good. He was giving them information, though Theo had to admit he wasn't sure how to use this particular fact.
At the very least, they'd made it inside. Step one out of the way.