“Indeed,” Arthur said. “Can you imagine?”
“I shudder to think. Even if there is a decorative sock, one must remember decorum.”
David’s head whipped back and forth between them, as if watching a rather vigorous game of tennis.
Looking at David, Linus said, “Arthur prefers to keep the length of his trousers shorter so that his socks may be enjoyed by all.”
“Too right,” Arthur said, laughing silently at himself for still being so smitten with Linus. Though he had never allowed himself to think on it much—he was always far too busy—before Linus, he had found himself succumbing to encroaching cold, the sharp, frozen needle of loneliness digging into his skin. It wasn’t until Linus that the last of the cold had melted away. “It’s not unlike what we face on a daily basis when we interact with people.”
Confused, David asked, “Their trousers are too long?”
“Precisely,” Arthur said. “And by trousers, I mean their staunchly set ways. All they need is to pull their trousers up to find a little color hidden underneath.” He did exactly that, showing the snow socks. “But these, David, these socks are special. You see, they can only be worn rarely. Otherwise, I’ll run afoul of a supremely terrible curse.”
That caught David’s attention, and he was a second or three late in covering up his excitement. “Yeah, right. Who would curse socks?”
Arthur chuckled. “Interesting question, and one I have pondered longer than you’ve been alive. Unfortunately, I’m no closer to solving the mystery. All I know for certain is that if I wear these socks on a Thursday, a Sunday, an odd-numbered day, or after three in the afternoon in the month of November, the socks will disappear.”
David frowned. “That’s not so bad.”
“Along with my feet.”
Linus sighed. “And before you think he’s having you on, trust me when I say he’s not. We won’t soon forget Thursday, November twenty-third.”
David’s mouth dropped open and stayed that way, the doll’s head falling to the floor, bouncing and rolling under the bed.
“Yes,” Arthur said gravely, “so I wear them not to manipulate you into feeling a certain way about this introduction, but because today is not Thursday, Sunday, an odd-numbered day, nor is it November.”
David’s gaze drifted down to Arthur’s socks. “That’s crazy. I wish I could be cursed. That sounds like so much fun.”
“It does, doesn’t it? But let’s be thankful instead that we both get to keep our feet, at least for the time being. Now, on to your question. Before I answer, might I show you something?”
David looked at him warily. “What?”
“Fire,” Arthur said. He held out his hand, palm raised toward the ceiling. With a little push, a bloom erupted from his hand, twin strands of flickering red-orange that twisted, forming a rotating double helix of flame.
David’s eyes were wide, reflecting the firelight. Cold blue and hot orange, and for a moment, Arthur felt an icy chill race down his spine. David said, “I think I can do that.”
“Do what, David?” Linus asked quietly.
David stood slowly, the doll slumping to the floor. He wouldn’t look at them, his gaze darting around the room, but he, too, lifted his hand, mirroring Arthur’s. Linus sucked in a sharp breath when blueish ice crystals rose from David’s palm, his face scrunched up in concentration. The ice split into two strands, and after a minute of David grunting through gritted teeth, the crystals formed a double helix, spinning rapidly. Even through the small fire in front of him, Arthur could feel the coldness seeping in.
It didn’t last long. The ice collapsed in on itself, and a puff of tiny snowflakes drifted toward the floor. David startled and pulled his hand back, gnawing on his bottom lip. “You did it, too, so you can’t be mad at me for trying.”
Arthur closed his fist, snuffing out the fire, black smoke leaking between his fingers. “I did do it, and I’m pleased you showed me you could too.” He lowered his hand and waited.
Eventually, David said, “It’s my choice. It’s up to me.”
“It is,” Arthur agreed. “Though we hope you will decide to visit Marsyas for however long you wish, I know there is a lot to consider. Rest assured, David, whatever you decide won’t be held against you. I know how it feels to have the ability to make your own decisions taken from you. You have my word we will never do that to you, and you will not be punished for being you. But you should know that I expect honesty, even if you think it might hurt our feelings.”
David hesitated. “Yesterday.”
“The hearing.”
David winced but pushed through it. “That woman said you were the only phoenix left.”
“I am.”
“So, your parents, they … they’re…”
“Dead,” Arthur said gently. “But not forgotten. My mother was a good woman. Kind, patient. My father was gruff, but I knew he loved me, in his own way. They live on in my memories, kept tucked away for the days I need to be reminded that my history, while difficult, began with people who loved me. While it doesn’t negate all that followed, it can be a balm to a weary soul.”
“You are like me,” David whispered with no small amount of awe. “My parents…” His bottom lip wobbled. “I don’t really remember Dad, but Mom, she smelled like cinnamon. And she would sing to me.” He blinked rapidly, little ice crystals forming around his eyes. “I can still remember the last thing she told me.”
“Do you?” Arthur asked. “That must be a treasured memory.”
With haunted eyes, David said, “No, it’s not. She told me to run.”
That night, just before midnight, the phone in their new hotel room rang. Linus and Arthur—both of whom had been on the cusp of sleep, legs tangled—shot up immediately. Linus reached the phone first, snatching up the handset and bringing it to his ear. “Zoe?” he said. “Is everything all right?”
Arthur joined him, leaning in to hear. It wasn’t Zoe.
Jason said, “David’s made his decision.”
SEVEN
David, as it turned out, had never been on a train before, and though he tried to contain his excitement, it spilled over when he saw the locomotive sitting next to the station, people milling about around them, hugging and saying farewell to those who would be departing. They caught a few odd looks, but that was to be expected, given David’s idea of a disguise.
Since he was unregistered, Arthur and Linus were concerned that if anyone saw him, they might ask questions, especially with Arthur’s face splashed across every major newspaper in the country. They had changed tickets for an earlier train, in case Rowder and DICOMY were attempting to follow them.
