Baco sits like one of the lion statues outside the New York Library, keeping an eye up the hall. Jes is locked in her meditative slumber. It must take a long time for her to regain her energy. I’m sitting near her, my back against the wall in a half slumber, not quite asleep. Sadie paces on the other side, making sure nothing surprising approaches.

  Each of the satyrs had a pouch full of walnuts and almonds, so I’ve been snacking for a while.

  There’s the tinging of a distant chime and Jes opens her eyes. The sound may have come from her. She looks to me with a grimace and stands.

  “You want this?” I say, holding the bolas hanging from my finger.

  “I’m good,” she says, holding her hand up.

  I stand. “And are we? Are we good?”

  She tightens her belts and checks her gear. “Not like we have much choice. We’re good.”

  “You at full power now?” I ask, fiddling with the bolas.

  She nods. “Meditation six. Recovers all vitality from casts and wounds.”

  “Not bad. We usually light a fire.” I fumble, trying to figure out how you carry a bolas when walking, since it’s essentially three softballs tied together. I end up slip knotting the center through a belt loop. I don’t have the slightest clue how to hold the stupid thing, let alone throw it, but it seems like something I should hold onto.

  She looks up and down the hall. “What now?”

  I point to my chalk mark on the wall. “I figured we might get turned around. That arrow points the way we were going and we go until we find a way out. Maybe not out of this world yet, but first things first. We need to get out of this labyrinth. Been a while since I’ve seen a sky and it’s starting to get depressing.”

  Jes stretches her neck. “I know what you mean. But, Dom…”

  “If there’s other people here, if your mom is here, we don’t know if she’s even in the labyrinth. If it turns out that we find evidence of more people from our world in here, we can come back and get them. And Jes.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Don’t call them minions. Please.”

  “Whatever,” she says. She looks to Sadie, slowly pacing the hall. “She’s a good fighter, though.”

  “She’s a good fighter,” I agree.

  “So, is she you? Like your brain in there?”

  I can’t stop the laugh. “If she was, she would certainly laugh at my jokes more. It’s weird. She kind of knows my thoughts, sometimes. And if one of them gets hurt bad, I can feel it. There’s a definite connection. But they’re also most definitely not me.”

  “You might have to command your boar to not hate me again.”

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  “When you hit me, that seems to have overridden my Dominance. His drive to protect me is his first priority.”

  “And you have Dominance control over Sadie.”

  I shake my head. “That feels wrong. I mean, I guess I could. And we’ve shared the same body, which is freaky as it gets. But no, I won’t do that. Baco’s more like a dog that needs training.”

  “You might be an impulsive idiot, Dom,” she says, just a matter of fact that can’t be denied. “But inside, you’re alright.”

  “Thanks?”

  I offer her a walnut. She accepts and easily cracks it in her cestus.

  “Favorite nut?” I ask, trying to strengthen that ‘alright’ rating.

  She chews thoughtfully. “Cashew or peanut.”

  “Solid choices.”

  “Waffles or pancakes?” is her next question. It’s a question that makes me think that everything is going to be alright from here on. She’s relaxed enough to just talk about nothing.

  “Waffles,” I decide. “But the syrup has to get into each square or I can’t touch it.”

  “Let’s get out of this place,” she says. “I just want to find my mom and go home. She can make us waffles. From scratch. I hate to be depressing, but are we even sure there is an out of this place?”

  “If we don’t look, we may never find it. We just have to keep going to the most challenging path and hope it’s getting us further out of here.”

  “Hanging with you is most definitely the most challenging path.”

  I flinch from some unseen gut shot. “Really? Is it that bad?”

  Jes and I would never have sat at the same lunch table. Then again, I don’t think I ever considered having lunch with a satyr, either. Circumstances being what they are, she’s not a bad person to end up with.

  She gives me a side eye and waves me away, “Get your team and let’s get moving.”

  “Squad up!” I state, not shout, but loud enough for the bondlings. Sadie clip clops over. Baco comes by, snorts and literally turns his nose up at Jes.

  “I think I just got snubbed by a pig,” she complains.

  I pat Baco. “I’d rather he come around naturally, not because I’m enchanting him.”

  Jes holds out a walnut to Baco.

  The internal struggle is so great that Baco seems he might simply split in two. He looks with distrust at Jes, and then with ravenous hunger at the walnut, back and forth, back and forth. This time, the distrust seems to win. He turns away.

  “Did that pig just fart at me?” Jes scoffs.

  Sadie giggles.

  “I can’t believe this is what it’s come to,” Jes mumbles to herself. “I had a good life.”

  Me too, Jes. But this one is one where we have powers and we heal grievous wounds in minutes. I move my tongue around my mouth. My previously punched out tooth is fully restored.

  I put my hand on her shoulder. “We will find your family, if they can be found. The ones you like at least.”

  She begrudgingly smiles.

  “What did he do to make you hate him so much?” I prod carefully.

  She shakes her head. “Chalk arrow points that way. You lead.”

  I check the hallway, which is surprisingly well lit, and the floor is clearly waxed.

  “And you said ex,” I remind her, starting our march at a fast walk, trusting my perception will kick in if necessary. “What did he do to make him an ex?”

  “Who, not what,” she clarifies.

  “Ouch,” I flinch. “On behalf of idiot men everywhere, I apologize.”

  “Idiot men is redundant,” she states without a hint of sarcasm.

  This is a point I’m not prepared to argue about. She’s apparently been mistreated by lots of men.

  “I had a girlfriend,” I add. “Same story.”

  “That would be an odd coincidence,” she muses. “If our exes were cheating on us with each other.”

  The hallway is wide, and she’s positioned herself diagonally behind me for a clear shot, not single file like I said we should. Her position is more aggressive, and I was thinking more defensively. Not sure which of us is right, so I let it slide.

  “Why did you hold your bow flat, instead of up and down?” I ask.

  “It was one of those things that happens automatically here, where you just think and your body does it. In a kneeling position, it prevents the bow from getting caught on the ground.”

  “That makes sense. I tried playing with my daggers holding it with the blade horizontally flat, which felt like the natural position. I thought about it and I think it’s so if I stab something in the ribs, it slides between them rather than getting caught.”

  “Gruesomely efficient,” she notes.

  There it is. That’s our team name. Gruesomely Efficient. I’ll have to wait until she’s in a more receptive mood before I bring that one up. I wonder if we can get it added to our bracers. Maybe we need a theme song first.

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