Lucy walked into a room, the door sealing shut behind her. They were in a motel. Her apartment could be attacked since the other fox disguised as Percival would have discovered it had been tricked.
Percival’s own apartment was gone. They needed a place to think, plan, and settle the turmoil in their hearts.
She exhaled, taking in a full view of the room. It was modest, scarcely large enough for a queen-sized bed, a walnut dresser, and a small table tucked beneath the window. Cream-coloured walls, worn smooth by years of fresh paint, reflected the soft glow of a bedside lamp.
A humming air conditioner rested beneath the window, while faded floral curtains framed the glass.
She tapped her foot on the carpet. It carried a muted scent of detergent. An average summoner would have failed to perceive it.
The only decoration was a landscape painting hanging above the headboard. Her eyes went to Percival.
He sat there, straight, arms crossed before his chest. This was one aspect of Percival that was too terrifying to be spoken.
His calmness. Among all of them, Godfrey included, Percival had killed more. An entire island had been drowned in his fight against the Ouroboros girl. He also drowned Manhattan before Mr. Sebastian reversed it all.
Three civilians had fallen. Killed by him.
Yet, he was never remorseful. At least, no one had ever seen him cry. It could either be that he hid the pain and guilt or didn’t feel it at all.
Could that be why he avoided fighting? Now she thought about it, Percival had always been in Manhattan Summoners High, never once moved into action by the pain and intense bullying going on all around him.
There was something behind Percival’s dislike for fighting. Maybe his hate for fighting was some kind of mechanism that kept others safe.
Lucy sat on the other side of the bed, her back toward him, face lowered. Adonis leaned on the wall. He parted the curtains. Outside lay a narrow strip of asphalt lined with parked cars, beyond which stretched a stand of towering pines and oaks, swaying gently. Telephone poles followed the quiet road into the distance, disappearing between patches of woodland.
Somewhere beyond the trees, gulls cried faintly, carried inland by the wind from the Atlantic.
"What happened back there?" Lucy asked.
"What do you think happened?" Percival’s response made her jaws clamp shut.
She folded the blanket in her fist. "I’m sorry." Seeing him strike down three people sank deep into her mind, but her past made her sway to the wrong side too often.
"Those people were collateral damage. A result of two higher beings locked in bat." Adonis chipped in.
"They were manipulated toward Percival. Percival saw them as foxes, they probably saw him as something else. Probably something that would draw them close. It was intentional, this confrontation...," said Adonis, glancing at them. "...is an intricate plan. It wants to test his morals after testing his strength. Whatever this boss is, it’s looking for weakness. Obviously, it knows there are now three threats in its town."
"This town doesn’t belong to a monster," Lucy said, testily. "It belongs to us, humans. People built this town, and now some monster has them entranced while it feeds on them." She felt nauseous at the image depicted by her own words.
"Can you find out where it is?" Percival asked.
Adonis shook his head. "I’m not a tracker, Percy. I just see things because I’m also good at illusions. Before I came here, Snow ran a place called House Of Desire. A place in a dungeon city where anyone could live out their fantasy. I’ve watched and the depth of illusion is a dark chasm. And all they had to do to throw themselves in was pay him mana cores. I realized how dreadful illusions could be. Had it not been for Jon, Snow wouldn’t have left, and I would not have taken control."
"Sure about that?" Percival responded, rising to his feet.
Lucy blinked, glancing at him. Her heart pounded at the way Percival was looking at Adonis. It couldn’t be... that this was another fox.
Was it... the boss?
"You almost sound exactly like Adonis. But I’m certain you’re not him."
"You don’t look so certain," Adonis replied, staring straight at Percival.
Percival squinted, doubtful. He truly wasn’t certain, but something just didn’t sit right with this Adonis. Snow, already a god with a business that would continually make him stronger while he relaxed, ran from Jon and an army of Fanatics?
Then Adonis took over? It all fitted into its right place. A perfect story, but he couldn’t buy it.
But maybe... maybe, he was wrong. The way Adonis spoke just rang oddly within him, but there was no solid evidence to suspect him of anything.
"I’m overthinking." Percival sat back down. Adonis removed his mask, revealing his handsome face.
"Look, Percival. I understand that anyone can be a suspect right now. And I’m not offended, but I think we should leave this town. We’ll be back when we’re prepared. Right now, we can’t even differentiate black from white," Adonis said.
Black from white?
Percival groaned internally. There. There it was. That same feeling. Telling him that Adonis wouldn’t speak like this. Or... he changed.
The death of his entire family could cause a severe change. Thinking about that, Percival realized where that odd feeling was ing from.
Adonis changed. It just didn’t align with his mental picture. But experiences could change a man, especially one like that involving his family. Adonis was strange though. He was stewing when his mother was shot, but with each loss Adonis faced, he grew more withdrawn.
More careful, cautious. More enlightened. It was strange. Weird even.
A normal person would be rampaging toward Jon.
"What do you think, Percy? Should we leave?" Lucy asked.
He was silent. Then nodded. "There’s no other option. After what happened, leaving Charlestown is for the best, or we might end up killing more innocent people."
"Back to Paradise then?"
Percival eyed Adonis, then gave a nod. Lucy could open a wormhole checkpoint there.
Lucy rose to her feet.
Then, a white-masked, horned figure cloaked in a rippling black cloak burst through the ceiling.
A great portion of the ceiling collapsed as two Crusaders, with hollow eyes, descended into the motel. Each of them held two short, curved daggers.
One of them already pressed a dagger against the soft flesh of Lucy’s neck.
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