Chapter Text
If you told Janus a year ago that one day in the disturbingly near future he would find himself flat on his stomach in the underbrush at three am with Fa— Logic, of all people, beside him, he would have not believed you, and also probably killed himself right then and there.
To add insult to injury, the burgundy jumper Heart had procured for him scratched in the underarms, and his slacks showed a full inch more ankle than would have been acceptable even in the early aughts. He thought longingly back to his dresser drawer, home to his few remaining crisp shirts and pleated linen trousers, his blue wool peacoat and snakeskin boots. He was glad he had a Logic-sanctioned reason to be concerned about the well-being of said clothing; Fear would’ve lampooned him within an inch of his life otherwise. And probably smeared him with mud to boot.
The back of his neck prickled uncomfortably. Try as he might, he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched. He hated the Plains. Everything was far too open. The world stretched out far around them before blending seamlessly into the black sky, so that it looked like they were not between two parallel layers of earth and sky but rather encased inside a sphere. The landscape was so blank he could see a dog taking a shit into a bomb crater that must’ve been half a mile off. A chill breeze wound its way down his spine. The angry, scarred earth did nothing to reduce his sense of foreboding.
There was that feeling again. He resisted the urge to crane his neck behind him. He knew what he would see— More flat plains, pockmarked with craters and the grotesque corpses of what might’ve once been trees. The odd stodgy house, or ruins thereof. He started humming God Bless The Capitol under his breath, partly because it had been stuck in his head for the past half day, partly to be ironic, but Logic didn’t seem to find it very funny, if his glare was anything to go by. Janus shut right back up.
Despite himself, he wished they were back in Nolands. Sure, it was gross, and wet, and there were bugs everywhere, and the humidity committed terrible crimes on his hair, but at least the trees that surrounded you on all sides never leered weirdly or left you feeling un-present presences. They actually made a person feel kind of… safe. God damn it to hell, Janus was now the kind of person who needed to care about his own personal safety.
“I hate this,” he said, trying and failing not to whine.
“Hate it quietly, please,” said Logic testily.
Ahead of them, the main house of the estate loomed. Fear had gaped at it like a loser for a solid minute when they pulled up, and Janus had resisted the urge to point out that out here, someone could probably buy it out for less than one year of Janus’ university tuition. Though he had to admit, it was impressive— or at least, it looked like it had once been.
Its stately windows were half smashed, half boarded over with splintery wood planks. Tendrils of ivy cascaded over the front, obscuring what stonework hadn’t already been pummelled into submission by years and years of wind and rain. The stained white paint on the door moulding was peeling away to reveal bald lumber beneath. Judging from the way it shifted and creaked on its foundation like a geriatric patient trying in vain to get comfortable on a hospice cot, Janus wouldn’t be surprised if that thing had a serious case of black rot. The front garden, and the lawns in back, were overgrown by a rampant infestation of wild gorse. Deinantha’s trademark crinkled mauve leaves peeked out from gaps in the long-dead grass.
Still, it had that regal air to it of an old house, of old money. He could imagine what it would’ve been like in its prime. Coaches lined up outside, guests clad in shimmering silk dismounting for a dinner party. Perfectly trimmed grass and cultivated flowerbeds. The sculpture of the mermaid in the fountain out front would gleam and spew merrily, not sit there collecting moss. A sitting room, with plush red sofas. A library, maybe…
He must have looked daydreamy, because Logic knocked him with the side of his shoe and nodded towards the house. Janus sighed and refocused his energy on mindless staring. Privately, he felt that the watch was useless. A house that size would have at least three entrances, and these days, nobody in their right mind would use the enormous front door that Logic was resolutely keeping his gaze affixed on.
But he wasn’t going to be the one to put a pin in their plan. Not when that glint had finally returned to Logic’s eye. Besides, he rationalized, it was almost certainly deserted anyway, so it didn’t matter which bush they crouched in.
“How long has it been?” he asked, not bothering to whisper.
Logic checked his watch. “A little under an hour.”
It felt like it had been at least three hours, and Janus was about to petulantly say so, but just then, a rather humanoid shape bolted out from behind the building.
He squinted at it and started to say, “Is that Fear?” but then two more shapes appeared, following it, so he said, “Fuck,” instead and then Logic was on his feet and running and Janus was scrambling after him.
“I knew we should’ve watched the back entrance,” Janus hissed, silently cursing himself.
“Well, why the hell didn’t you say something?” Logic snapped.
Janus threw his hands up. “Does it look like anybody listens to me around here?”
Logic made an angry noise. They crossed the empty road to the manor at a sprint. Logic’s was a considerably faster sprint. The first figure, the unfamiliar one, was making a Northwest break for it, away from the house, trailed by Fear’s loping steps.
Janus looked at Logic’s hand, knuckles clenched tight around the hilt of his knife, and wished he had something to hold. He felt dumb and undefenseless wandering around empty handed, even though he knew that he had managed on less before. Still, a magique artefact would be nice. A rosary, maybe. Or a staff.
Better yet, a gun!
“I’ll cut them off,” Logic yelled. The stranger had made it past the garden gate and was now tearing across the lawn. If they made it to the highway on the West side of the mansion there was no point bothering after that. “You go around.”
“Go around where?” Janus yelled back, but obviously he got no answer. He kept running forward. It seemed like a reasonable choice. He reached the stone wall of the garden, hooked one foot into a crevice, and tumbled over it onto a nice patch of grass that turned out to be a pile of invisible pokeweed. Muttering obscenities and brushing non-corporeal barbs off his jumper, he jogged over to the gate and peered through the slats. It looked like Logic had indeed managed to intercept the stranger, who then made the fantastic strategic choice of a full 180 and was currently sprinting back whence they came, Logic on their heels.
Janus ducked out of sight, pressing his back flat against the wall and preemptively unlocking the gate. The sound of footsteps pounded against barren earth. The gate creaked as it swung open. Janus pounced.
He felt his body make contact with another body, and then the ground. There was some blind scuffling. His head whacked against something hard, possibly a tree root. He still had no clue who he was fighting with but he was getting fucking trounced. He might have a black eye after this. Fear was going to love it.
He glanced upward to see Logic just standing there, annoyingly calm but breathing hard. For a split second, as Janus rolled over onto his back for a friendly pummeling, he saw him not as Logic but as a scruffy teenage boy in a too-big coat and stained sneakers. Ah yes, their formidable leader and his fucking kitchen knife. It was all patently ridiculous, Janus realized, his life was terrible. Maybe he should accept his fate and lie there to be beat up so that at least somebody could have a nice, fulfilling morning.
He wrapped his arms around what he assumed was the body of his opponent, driving the top of his head into a chest, and used all his remaining energy to push off the ground with his feet and roll them over. They tumbled for a while, to the soundtrack of grunts and muffled curses. Janus hit a couple more things, and then they fell into a ditch and by some miracle, Janus ended up on top. Panting, he pushed his hair out of his eyes and examined his now-immoble opponent.
A young man glowered at him from underneath a messy curtain of dark hair, lips drawn into a snarl. His jaw muscle worked underneath a swathe of smooth skin, his jawline sharp as a dagger and highlighted slightly by the moonlight. It must be said. He was, objectively and extremely, attractive.
Holding him down, Janus managed to say, “ Lier ,” and then rolled out of the way as slim white ropes shot out of thin air and dragged and pinned the boy to the nearest solid object, which happened to be a misshapen topiary tree some eight feet away. No longer in any great hurry, Janus lay there on the ground for a moment before climbing to his feet and making his way over to the tree, rubbing his sore head. He was still covered in the pokey bits of invisible pokeweed. This jumper was done for. Oh, well, no great loss. He was a saint. They owed him for this. Well. Actually, more like he owed them one less.
Heart and Logic were watching as their captive kicked furiously against his bonds, his face a mask of unadulterated rage. Fear had disappeared, probably back into the house. The boy in the bonds looked very young. He couldn’t have been older than Janus himself.
“We’re not going to hurt you,” Heart said, holding out his hands. “I promise.” His open, kind face seemed to put the kid a little at ease, though he still eyed them all suspiciously.
“Swear on it,” he said.
“I promise,” Heart repeated.
“No,” said the boy. He spat into the dirt and jutted his chin at it. “ Swear .”
“Kayda’s tits,” Janus groaned. “Heart, don’t .”
Heart ignored him and added his saliva onto the existing wet patch in the ground. Janus glanced over at Logic, who looked equally pained. Heart used his shoe to muddle the dirt into a larger, fainter splotch and said, “I swear by my gore and my sputum that no harm will come to you at the hands of me or my companions.”
It was an undignified little swear, but the boy seemed placated.
“Who are you,” Logic said, evidently tired of the pleasantries. It was not a question.
“My name is—”
“ NO ,” they all said together. Heart had dove several feet forward to clap a hand over his mouth. The boy blinked at them with wide, confused eyes and then licked Heart’s hand to get him to drop it, which he did with admirable good grace and only a minute grimace.
“Um. Okay,” he said cautiously. “What do you want to know then?”
Logic raised his left eyebrow ¼ of a millimeter at the prospect of an interrogation. Good god, he was positively exuberant. “Do you live here?”
“No. Passing through.”
“On your way to where?”
“Ahead of me.” The boy grinned at his own mediocre joke. Janus rolled his eyes.
“Do you travel alone?” Logic asked.
“Yes.”
“What the hell are you doing that for?” Janus cut in. “Seems like a nice quick way to die.”
The boy flushed. “I hardly have anybody to wander around with,” he snapped. “And it’s none of your business, but I’m looking for somebody.”
“Who?”
He didn’t say anything. Then, “Well, what about you lot?”
Heart frowned. “What about us?”
“What brings you to good old Edgepike Manor?”
“Provisions,” Logic said shortly. “Food. Matches. Et cetera.”
“This place has been deserted for ages,” their captive said thoughtfully, “There isn’t any food. Not any worth eating. And you know, a big house like this”— he gazed at them with wide, falsely-innocent eyes— “You seem like smart guys. I’m sure you guessed it's probably already been ransacked a couple times…” His eyes flashed. “You want other things. Things ordinary people wouldn’t.”
“Stop it,” Janus said, taking a step forward. “Stop it. You selfish brat. We can kill you right now.”
His smile was a high, pleased arch. “No. You can’t.”
“Deceit,” Heart said. A warning. Janus wasn’t listening.
He jabbed a finger into the center of the boy’s chest, just between two lengths of rope. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said in a low voice, anger and fear mingling into a knot in his stomach. “You will keep your mouth shut or I will shut it for you.” He tilted his head and smiled, plucking meaningfully on one of the ropes. “It’s actually quite interesting. Did you know there are all these funny loopholes in the legal definition of ‘harm’?”
The boy was shaking. His smooth brown face turned a patchy ruddy color on his high cheekbones and at the tips of his ears. “You don’t get to fucking tell me when to speak,” he said icily. The entire topiary tree was swaying as if in a strong wind. “You twee little spoiled, inbred, pri—”
The bush exploded in a huge cloud of leaves and splinters. Janus hit the floor instinctively, bending his head down to shield his eyes against the oncoming assault of flying twigs and hunks of wood. He felt bits of leaves rain down over him like a summer shower, and then it was still.
He peeked up warily after another couple seconds. His charm had disappeared in the chaos. The boy sat flat on his ass in the dirt, staring resolutely up at them. His chin was trembling, though whether from anger or upset it was difficult to say.
“Huh,” Janus said, standing up. “Not bad.” He grabbed the boy’s hand and pulled him to his feet, then shoved his back into his trouser pocket, turning back towards his compatriots for guidance. Heart had a funny expression on his face. Janus did not like the look of it.
“How old are you?” Heart asked.
Oh no . Logic’s eyes widened in horror. Janus was sure a similar expression was gracing his own face, but it was too late for either of them.
The boy shifted, making semicircles with his trainers in the dirt. “Eighteen.”
Heart turned to Logic with huge eyes. “He’s only eighteen.”
“ I’m eighteen,” Janus pointed out sullenly. He had not received this kind of sympathy, and he had actually asked to join their merry band. New boy looked aggrieved by the prospect. Janus glared at him. He didn’t know how lucky he had it. There had been far more violence involved in Janus’ go round.
“Not even of age,” Heart said piteously. “And he’s clever.”
Janus was plenty clever.
Logic waffled. Janus huffed. This was ridiculous. Logic was barely older than Janus. Barely . And for all Heart liked to act parental, he himself couldn’t have been more than twenty-five or so.
“What’d I miss?” Fear’s voice said from directly behind Janus’ left ear. He jumped and turned around to glare at Fear, who grinned back without mirth.
“Poor little castaway blew up a tree and now Heart wants to adopt him,” Janus sniffed, unable to keep the scorn from his voice. He glanced at the bulging rucksacks that Fear was lugging with him. “Find anything?”
“Oh, tons of shit,” Fear said, “Most of it’s jackwagon, I expect, but we’ll have a look.”
Janus silently resigned himself to a tedious afternoon of picking through boxes of pins, testing batteries, and attempting to recoil massive swathes of rope. The grab-and-go extravaganza nature of their supplies missions left a lot to be desired, but one couldn’t exactly walk into a market and ask for industrial strength wire, now could one.
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Logic said decisively. “We have all been outside for far too long. We are going in. We are going to go to sleep. Nobody will hex anybody.” He shot a pointed look at Janus, who refused to be cowed. He made a nasty face. “And we will engage in further discussions in the morning.” He turned on his heel and began striding toward the patio door as if expecting them all to follow. Heart did so obligingly.
Janus hung back a little. The boy was glancing at the garden wall as if contemplating whether he could hurdle it if taken at a run. Fear materialized behind him in that horrible way of his and clapped a hand on his shoulder. Janus was viciously pleased to see the boy jump half a foot in the air.
“Walk, dickhead,” Fear said cheerfully, leering in his ear.
They walked.
The back garden was in a truly horrible state. Any proper vegetation had been completely overtaken by weeds. They formed a thick quilt over the ground and had nearly managed to transform several decorative fountains into herbaceous mounds. If he didn’t know better, Janus would guess there was a growing spell on the place, but this wasn’t that kind of area. Among others, he spotted kendar, ulote, a thriving bush of bleeding sage, and heaps and heaps of the aforementioned wild gorse. Janus made a mental note to do a little picking before they left. It would be nice to be able to make some wards, if only against headaches.
They traipsed onto the patio, which looked like a pink-tiled island in a sea of plants, and through the sliding doors into a parlor. Inside, it wasn’t not nice. Nothing some cleaning wouldn’t fix. A slight breeze blew by outside, ruffling the plants. The whole house creaked. Make that some cleaning and possibly a new frame.
Heart announced he was going to put tea on and clattered off to find a kettle. Janus gratefully sank into a green high-backed armchair with its back to the fireplace. It was dead drafty in here. There were some logs already in, so all he had to do was lean over and cast an enflammer , and soon enough there was a fire crackling merrily. Logic took the second armchair and Fear steered their new arrival to the sofa. A puff of dust rose around them when they sat.
Janus looked around the room, assessing. They’d gone with a green and yellow color scheme, accented with mahogany, which was a tad gauche— especially in regards to those ruffled, moth-bitten curtains— but not overtly offensive.
Heart appeared in the doorway. “There’s no bloody hot water,” he said forlornly. Logic made half-hearted false noises of disappointment. Nobody else seemed to be in the mood for tea either, but Janus sensed the whole performance was more for Heart than the rest of them so he got up and did a little heating charm to start the kettle going. Heart brightened.
Seven minutes later, Heart somehow also produced five teacups with scottie dogs painted upon them and a tin of ginger biscuits. He set the whole affair up on the coffee table and stood back to admire his handiwork.
“It’s lovely,” Janus said, even though it wasn’t really, and poured himself a cup of tea.
Cautiously, the new boy leaned forward and took a biscuit. When nobody admonished him for it, he took another, and then stuffed them both into his mouth like a wild animal. Janus watched him in disgust and thought longingly back to proper afternoon teas in his parents’ drawing room. Cardamom cake. Fat blond scones with clotted cream. Mille-feuille. Much of Janus’ life now consisted of thinking longingly back.
He sighed and took a deep sip of weak tea. It’s not like he was ever permitted to partake of said sweets, but it made a nice memory, in theory.
“This is nice,” said Heart bracingly. He poured a cup of tea and dropped in a heaping spoonful of sugar, stirring it around until it dissolved. He handed the mug to New Boy, who chugged half of it in one go like it was water and not boiling hot leaf soup.
Fear held up a biscuit and broke it. It had a nice snap.
“So,” said New Boy to Janus, through a mouthful, “You’re a medechqir.” His distrust was clearly written across his pretty face.
Janus snorted. “So are you, mate, don’t look at me like that.” He folded his arms. “Also, that’s an outdated term and I take offense to it.”
He wrinkled his nose. “What, you fancy yourself an illusionniste ?”
“And why shouldn’t I?” He had a terrible thought. “You’re not one of those who actually wants to be called a bloody escroc , are you?”
“I don’t want to be called anything,” he said, taking a second cup of tea offered to him by Heart. “I’m not a medechqir. Or illusionniste. Or crocodile whatever.”
Janus stared at him. “You exploded a fucking tree.”
“No I didn’t. I didn’t mean to.”
“It happened though,” Janus pressed. “I absolutely did not imagine that.” He looked around the room for support.
“I didn’t see it,” Fear offered unhelpfully. He seemed to have decided that he would only eat his biscuits if they were broken into eighths. Heart watched helplessly as he rained crumbs down onto the carpet.
“He didn’t see it,” repeated New Boy as if that was some kind of victory.
“That’s because he was inside ,” Janus said, through gritted teeth. “Logic?”
Logic sighed heavily, as if already regretting being brought into this conversation. “That did in fact happen.”
New Boy opened his mouth as if to further argue, but Janus cut him off.
“Don’t bother. So you can do a little magique. None of us are gonna fight you over it.” He gestured to himself. “See, I’m alive.”
“Yeah,” said Fear, “We hate Deceit because he’s an asshole, not because he can do cleaning spells.”
Janus, mature adult that he was, stuck out his tongue at him.
New Boy shrugged. “Well, I’ve never been taught, so I didn’t think you would think it counted.”
“You did an explosion spell without any prior schooling,” Janus said skeptically.
New Boy perked up. “Is that impressive?”
When Janus was eleven it took him half a year to master a basic shattering spell. The most he could do was pop balloons with an éclater , whilst Nicole and Gil cheerfully destroyed ceramic practice urns. On his turn he would stand there, palms sweaty, and hold out a hand, and then he’d think of the glass breaking against the parlor wall and the incantation would die in his throat and his tutor would launch into a red-faced, spittle-flecked monologue about the softness of today’s youth.
“Not terribly,” he said. “Most kids can do them.”
“Was it even a spell, though?” Heart said thoughtfully. “He didn’t say anything.”
“Some people can do wordless spells,” Janus said. He was not one of them, though he wasn’t about to mention that part.
“It wasn’t a spell,” New Boy insisted. “I didn’t do it on purpose. I can’t do proper magic, it just… happens, sometimes.”
Janus frowned, but didn’t say anything more. He guessed that wasn’t unheard of, but it was still weird. He had gotten shoved into tutoring as soon as he started levitating soap bubbles in the bath as a toddler, but maybe things were different wherever New Boy was from.
New Boy took another sip of tea and yawned, unsuccessfully muffling it behind his hand.
“It’s almost five,” said Heart. “We should all sleep.”
“Alright,” said New Boy, standing up, “I’ve been sleeping in one of the upstairs bedrooms, so I’ll just be off there, goodnight all—”
“Nice try,” said Logic. “Everybody will stay down here.”
New Boy pouted. “Can I at least go get my stuff?”
“Deceit, go with him,” Logic instructed.
Janus and New Boy both groaned.
“Fiiine,” Janus whined, reluctantly sliding off his armchair. Logic and Heart got up as well, presumably to sort out their bedrolls. Fear had claimed the couch, kicking his legs across New Boy’s vacated seat and throwing his jacket over his head. He folded his hands over his chest and let out a contented sigh. He looked like a corpse. His breathing leveled out seconds later. Janus added this to his mental list of reasons why Fear was potentially not human. His working theory was a shapeshifting Spunnus Bat. Either that or the devil incarnate.
He followed New Boy out the door where Heart went to get tea earlier. It led to a dusty, dark hallway that opened up to a small kitchen, and to the left of the kitchen door was a flight of stairs running parallel to the wall. They tramped up the stairs, footsteps loudly creaking on the old floorboards. The low ceiling hovered over them, grazing the top of New Boy’s hair. Janus had to duck under a beam at the top and nearly got a mouthful of cobwebs. He was momentarily grateful for the narrowness of the stairwell. Since he was walking behind New Boy, only the spiders were there to bear witness to his undignified flailing.
New Boy ducked into the first room to the right and rudely let the door shut behind him. Janus ignored the unsubtle message and followed in after him, partly to prevent him from leaping out the window and making a break for it, but mostly out of curiosity. The room looked like it was probably once a child’s bedroom, done up in pale blue and white, with little silver stars decorating the ceiling. The bed in the center of the room was a jumbled mess of blankets. Its striped canopy had a long rip down the middle, the low-hanging tendrils grazing the top of Mount Duvet.
Janus wandered over to the desk, which was covered in a thick film of dust. He wrote his name in it with his finger, then guiltily realized that he was only Janus in private anymore, and used the flat of his hand to wipe it away. He tried to clean off his now disgusting hand with his trousers, which were equally grimy and just served to make everything about his current existence that much worse.
He turned his attention back to New Boy to make sure he wasn’t doing anything dumb. He was standing by a dark oak chest of drawers, shoving its contents into a battered green kit bag. Janus gave him his privacy by refocusing on the desk. The surface was blank save for the aforementioned dust and a single photograph propped up against the wall. Experimentally, he pulled open the desk drawer. It was empty as well. New Boy had been right about the place already having been ransacked.
He picked up the photograph, squinting at it. It was a little faded, and creased down the middle, but despite that, two young boys beamed, unimpeded, up at him, arms looped around each other’s shoulders. They seemed to be brothers, with the same brown skin and dark unruly hair. The smaller one, with the missing tooth, was probably about eight or nine, and the other maybe fourteen.
“Don’t touch that,” said New Boy, who appeared next to him and snatched it away from Janus. He carefully folded it and tucked it into the front pocket of his jeans. He had his bag over one shoulder, and a blanket over the other arm.
“Sorry,” Janus said, holding up his hands. “I didn’t know it was yours.”
He shrugged. “Whatever. Let’s go.”
They retraced their steps from before, with the fortunate benefit that Janus was now prepared for the cobwebs. Back in the parlor, Logic and Heart had set out their sleeping bags on the carpet. Heart was doing his nightly meditation, which involved a lot of loud, rhythmic breathing, and Logic was placidly sharpening his knife. He jerked his chin towards an open door on the wall to his left.
“There’s a sitting room through there. Heart already put your stuff in.”
Janus thanked him and they went over. The pink-and-cerulean theme was Janus’ least favorite so far, but there were two couches, so he could almost forgive the owners for the huge, realistic painting of an anthropomorphic rabbit that hung over the mantle and gave them a disturbingly lustful side-eye.
As promised, Janus’ satchel had been placed on a couch, unfortunately the one closest to the rabbit. Heart, angel that he was, had spread out his sleeping bag and provided him with a pillow that seemed to have been taken from a yellow armchair across the room. Janus was too tired to take offense to the fact that it clashed horribly with the brownish purple of his sleeping bag. He flopped down onto the couch, ignoring its noise of complaint, and rolled over to watch New Boy spread out his blanket and smother his yawns.
It was not terribly riveting, and after a minute Janus’ curiosity got the better of him. “Who was the other boy in the photograph?”
“Nobody important,” said New Boy quickly.
“I don’t usually carry about photos of unimportant people, personally,” said Janus.
New Boy hesitated. “He’s… a friend.” He walked across the room to get a pillow from the second yellow armchair and fluffed it between his hands. “Someone I haven’t seen in a while, that’s all.”
“Is he the person you’re looking for?”
“Yeah,” New Boy admitted. He set his jaw, his face alight with a determination that was as charming as it was naive. “I’m going to save him.”
“So noble,” Janus drawled. “You’re a right fucking prince.” He brightened, snapping his fingers. “That’s it!” He got up and poked his head back through the doorway of the other room. “New boy is Prince.”
Heart cracked open one eye. “Ohh, I love it,” he chirped, and went back to his cleansing humming.
“Fits,” said Logic.
Fear snored a little.
“I am not ,” said Prince hotly, but everybody ignored him.
“Heave ho,” said Fear with uncharacteristic good cheer, dumping Prince’s unconscious body into the backseat. The fighting and scheming of the past day had put him in a better mood than usual. Prince fell forward against the back of the driver’s seat, his limbs simultaneously dragging him off the seat and towards the floor of the car.
“Be careful!” Heart chided, rushing over to set him up properly. Despite the best efforts of both Heart and the seatbelt, he still listed forward, head lolling to the right.
“What did you do to him?” Janus asked.
Heart looked guilty. “Sleeping sugar in his tea.”
Fear clapped him on the back. “I always liked you,” he said, which didn’t seem to make Heart feel any better about himself.
Logic’s head emerged from underneath the open hood of the truck. There was a bit of oil on his cheek and he looked cross. “What are you lot standing around for?” He brandished a screwdriver at them. “Get moving!”
While Heart continued to try and fold Prince’s limbs into a position that wouldn’t destroy all his nerve endings, Fear and Janus walked around to the back of the truck to start loading everything in. It was a bright morning. The Plains were much less foreboding during the day, though the lack of trees allowed the sun to beat down on them relentlessly. The two of them worked together in silence, Janus passing various bags over to Fear, who then hauled them into the truck bed. Under Logic’s watchful eye, they had managed not to overpack for once, and the process went by quickly.
At last, Fear stepped back from the truck and smoothed a hand over the crown of his shaved head. A thin film of sweat glinted off his dark brown skin. “Logic!” he yelled.
Logic slammed the hood shut, wiping his greasy hands on his trousers, and the four of them reconvened next to the open left-hand door, within which Prince slumbered.
“Did you fix it?” said Heart.
“I think so,” Logic said. “If not we’ll find out soon enough. Let’s go. I want to be on the road before he wakes up.”
“Can I drive?” asked Fear, like he did every time.
“Absolutely not,” said Heart and Logic together, like they did every time.
They all piled in. It was a tighter squeeze than usual because of the extra body, and furthermore Janus’ usual seat had been given to Prince. He ended up squished between Heart and Logic on the front bench. Behind them, Fear stretched out beside their conked-out abductee and put his feet up on the back of the seat, right on either side of Janus’ head, because he was a terrible fucking person.
Heart drove, because he was the only one who could do so legally. Logic got radio privileges, because he had very specific taste and nobody wanted to argue with him. Janus got to sit there and suffer through Logic’s terrible music choices, which consisted largely of country rock, because the universe hated him.
Their little road trips were Janus’ least favorite part of his current life. It was always dead boring, and being cooped up made him antsy, and Logic got annoyed with him being antsy and from there it was usually straight downhill. Their shitty, cranky old truck clattered down the empty highway, guided by Heart, who bobbed his head along with the music and attempted to sing despite not knowing the words.
Janus watched the world go by outside the window for a while, but that was dull, because every mile looked exactly the same. When he felt himself getting excited by the sight of a fully upright tree, that was a sign there was something very wrong. He peeled a little bit of leather off the edge of the small bag on his lap, which was full of herbs and plant clippings he’d taken from the garden earlier that morning. He was itching to spread it all out and start fiddling, but from the way the truck was rattling he doubted he’d be able to keep his hands steady. Then, he shifted around until Logic elbowed him and told him to stop shifting around, and then he tried to go to sleep. He drifted in and out of a light, unrestful doze for a couple hours, and then was jerked back into consciousness by the sounds of scuffling in the back seat. He turned around to see Fear wrestling Prince’s seat belt back on.
“What the fuck?!” Prince was saying, thrashing. He got in a knock on Fear’s nose, who then hit him round the head with a satisfying smack. “Where am I?”
“Good morning, kiddo!” said Heart, as if he was Prince’s loving father rather than a random stranger who had personally knocked him out and stuffed him into a car. “Great news, you’re going to live with us for a while!”
“ WHAT ?!” Prince exploded. “You said we’d discuss it in the morning!”
“We did,” Logic pointed out, with all his trademark tact, “Just not with you.”
“Please don’t blow up the truck,” Janus said, eyeing Prince nervously. He was so red in the face Janus wouldn’t have been shocked if steam started pouring out of his ears.
“This is a kidnapping,” Prince announced, “It’s illegal and you all are a bunch of fucking wankers and I hate you.”
Fear laughed. “Buddy, this is like, the most legal thing we’ve done all week.”
“I don’t like this either,” Janus admitted, ignoring Fear. “We shouldn’t trust him. We don’t know where he’s from, or anything about him.”
“Great,” said Prince, “Then you can just let me off at the next town and you don’t have to worry about it ever again.”
“Great,” repeated Janus, “Let’s do that, please, Logic.”
“Unfortunately for all of us, that isn’t an option,” Logic said, over the dulcet tones of Lydie Jamb as she crooned about love being like a good greasy breakfast. “I would rather distrust you from within a visible distance.”
“Thanks,” Prince snarked. He folded his arms and scowled at Logic through the rearview mirror. “I have things to do ,” he insisted. Janus remembered the photo on the desk and felt a twinge of sympathy, which was quickly drowned out by schadenfreude.
“And if you wait it out and don’t try to kill any of us, we can help you do them,” said Logic, logically. “But as of now, I apologize, but you don’t have a say in the matter.”
Prince huffed but didn’t argue further, opting instead to glare out the window and sigh loudly every thirty seconds. After about five minutes of this, he asked, “Where are we going, anyway?”
“Home,” said Heart, which was blatantly untrue.
“The Nolands,” clarified Janus. He caught Prince’s skeptical expression from his reflection in the dashboard. “I know. It’s awful, you’ll hate it.”
“Oh, shut up, Deceit, it’s not that bad,” Fear scoffed. “Don’t listen to him. He’s a spoiled baby.”
“Do you just... live in the woods?”
“Don’t be stupid, there’s a house,” Janus said. If it was, say, a tent, Janus would not be there, because he would be dead, because he would rather die in an estate than live in a tent. The cottage was barely acceptable.
“What’s it like?”
“It’s lovely,” began Heart. “There’s a red roof—”
“Ughhh, don’t bother,” groaned Fear, clearly dreading the incoming explanation of the stonework. “He’ll see it soon enough.”
They fell into silence, punctuated by the sputtering of the engine as they trundled along. Genuine flora was beginning to appear along the side of the road, in patches, like a teenager’s patchy beard. Seeing colors other than brown and grey did wonders for Janus’ mood. There were more houses popping up as well, and closer together. On a patch of grass in front of a squat home with a thatched roof, a few children played a game of football. Their shrieks of laughter carried through the cracked-open window. A sign up ahead informed them that they would enter the Rivers District in less than a kilometer.
“How much longer?” asked Janus.
“About four more hours,” said Logic.
Prince groaned along with the rest of them. He was already fitting right in.
In what was actually four and a half more hours, five if you counted the trek from where Heart parked the truck, they arrived at the cottage. And not a moment too soon. A minute more of hiking, especially whilst lugging the rucksacks that Fear had foisted on him, and Janus’ arms and legs would fall clean off and Logic would be forced to drag his pitiful, limbless torso along the forest floor by the hair.
“Home sweet home!” Heart chirped, bounding up the front steps, his keys jangling in his hand. He fumbled with them for a moment, then pushed the door open, sighing in contentment as he stepped through. Though Janus wasn’t about to admit it, he was also glad to be back. Against his will, the pathetic little thing— its crumbling stone bricks, the plants climbing up the walls, the bent and rusted copper weathervane— and the marshy forest that surrounded it had become rather comforting and familiar.
He staggered inside, dumped the bags on the floor, and flung himself across the room and onto the couch, taking care to hang his feet and their muddy shoes off the edge, a safe distance from the floral fabric. “Leave me here to die,” he said, as the rest of them entered and set down their own bags. Unpacking was a problem for later.
“You’re a weak bitch,” Fear said, dropping the bag with Heart’s kitchenware onto his stomach.
Janus glanced over at Prince, curious as to what he thought about the cottage. His expression was neutral, but he kept looking around, his eyes flicking from the stack of books on the coffee table, to the fraying red rug, to the small kitchen that opened up behind them, to the hallway that stretched out against the left side of the room. It looked like a tasteless elderly couple’s holiday home, not a base for illegal activity, but Janus had recently begun to come to terms with the lack of aesthetic propensity in his new life. It might build character. Or kill him. A win either way.
Despite Prince’s only belongings being in his little kit bag, he had carried an extra suitcase without complaint. He deposited it on the top of the pile of luggage currently invading the floorspace in the living area, but kept his own bag with him.
Heart put an arm around his shoulders. “C’mon, kiddo, let’s take a tour. I’ll show you where you’re gonna sleep.”
“Wait a minute,” said Janus, sitting up, “There are only four beds.”
Logic made a hmm-ing noise. “I suppose one of us will have to sleep on the couch.”
Everybody looked at Janus.
“No,” he said. “No, no, no. This is inhumane.” Logic turned away and began unzipping his luggage. “I could hex you all right now!” Janus yelled at the retreating backs of Heart and Prince as the former dragged the latter towards the bedrooms.
Fear patted his head like one would a dog, except with so much force it would probably kill a dog. “I hope this destroys you,” he said.
Janus swatted him away and sprawled back onto his prison cot to bemoan what could only be karmic punishment from the universe. Janus’ lifelong hobby of being a horrible person had caught up to him at last. The reasonable thing to do would be to take this as a sign to grow into a more selfless human being, but that sounded like a fucking drag, so he he lay there uselessly and whined as Logic and Fear began the process of unpacking.
Heart and Prince didn’t reappear until almost everything was back in its usual places, save for the bags Fear had filled with debris from Edgepike Manor. They had been stuffed into the broom closet until anyone got the energy to do something about them. The two arrivals were giggling, which was a bad sign.
“I like it here,” Prince announced, which was clearly Heart’s fault.
“That’s good to hear,” said Logic absently. He was sitting on the floor in front of the bookshelf, squinting at the spine of a battered blue book as he attempted to figure out where it was meant to go. Janus didn’t envy him. Old Gragluin letters never stayed in the proper order for long.
“I’ve actually been thinking,” said Heart, taking a seat on the arm of the couch near Janus’ feet. “Deceit, maybe it would be nice if you could teach Prince a little magique.”
The grimace on Prince’s face matched Janus’ own lack of enthusiasm.
“He’s going to hex me,” Janus said peevishly. “And I won’t be able to defend myself, and I’ll die, and you lot will have to wash the dishes by hand.”
“Fine,” said Heart, “No hexes.”
“What else is the point of learning magique?” Prince groused. He sank into a chair and tucked his knees up to his chest.
“It’s still a bad idea,” Janus insisted, propping himself up with one elbow. “Right, Logic?”
“I think it’s an excellent idea,” said Logic, the traitor. He slid another book into an available spot with a shhh-ing noise as the leather jackets rubbed against each other. “It will be better for everybody if Prince can control his, ah, abilities.”
“Besides, it’d be useful to have another set of hands,” Fear cut in. “Deceit is shit at household spells.”
“I am not .” With Janus’ luck, Prince would be bloody brilliant at magical sock-darning.
“Then it’s settled,” Heart said, clapping his hands and springing to his feet, ignoring the twin dirty looks being thrown his way from either side of the room. Underneath that sunny exterior was the cruel fiendish heart of someone dedicated to ruining Janus’ already sad life. “I’ll get dinner started. Fear, come help.”
“Is there anything I can chop?” asked Fear, following at his heels like an oversized puppy.
Janus hazarded a peek at Prince. He was glaring at Janus as if this was somehow his fault. Janus made a face at him that meant, “This is going to suck as much for me as it is for you” and Prince squinted back a “I don’t care, I hate you.”
Janus sighed and got up to make sure Logic wasn’t misfiling any spell books. They would throw a fit, and Janus didn’t fancy getting his fingers bitten next time he wanted to read up on healing charms. He winced. After less than an hour, the couch had already given him a crick in his back.
The near future was shaping up to be unbelievably bleak.