Chapter 2.6 - In which Percy fails to keep a secret

Percy

Month 12, Day 19, Saturday 6:10 p.m.

Thankfully, the room soon grew dim and the chattering crowd hushed. But as the play unfolded on stage, Percy found his mind wandering to the events of two days prior.

After their harrowing escape from the blood sorcerer, Tennyson and Percy had washed off the worst of the gore with water drawn from some family’s backyard well. Tennyson had insisted on leaving a silver on their doorstep to pay for the use of their amenities, and Percy hadn’t bothered to tell him that this was a gross overpayment.

After that, the two young men had huddled in an alley between buildings while they waited for the Red Guard to handle the situation and the rest of the city to be released from the emergency shelters. Because the ground was dirty and Tennyson was still wet, he had paid another silver for Percy to take off his jacket and let Tennyson sit on it. Percy had agreed, not for the silver, but because he needed to be in the aristocrat’s good graces.

“We can’t tell anyone about this,” Percy had said, watching Tennyson’s reaction closely.

Tennyson nodded automatically, then stopped mid-motion. “What? Why?”

 “If we come forward, it could put our families in danger. These blood sorcerers… They might seek revenge.” It wasn’t like their testimony was likely to help capture the criminals—Percy hadn’t even seen the man’s face—but it was likely to make more trouble for himself. He could think of several times where he’d seemed to get himself out of a bad situation, only for everything to go wrong in the aftermath.

The thought of waking up in the middle of the night to the sound of a concussive blast shattering the front door of his house made him shudder.

Tennyson’s eyes widened and then narrowed. “I see… Caring not for rewards or accolades for our heroism, keeping our identities secret to protect the innocent. Yes, that makes sense.” Despite the fact that neither of them had done anything heroic, he pinched his narrow chin between two fingers, staring into the distance with a frown that made him look slightly constipated.

Percy opened his mouth to correct Tennyson but thought better of it. If it helped keep the aristocrat quiet, perhaps it was best to let him believe what he wanted. “Exactly,” Percy agreed, though it was hard to force the words out. “We need to keep this between us.”

Tennyson grinned and winked at Percy. “I understand completely. And to be honest, I have my own reasons for keeping quiet. My parents… They’ve been trying to saddle me with a trio of bodyguards for months now. If they found out about this, well, that would be the end of my resistance.”

Percy had raised an eyebrow, surprised by the young noble’s concern. “You don’t want protection?” He imagined walking around with a trio of highly trained bodyguards who would not only protect him from danger, but stand up for him when he got into trouble. It sounded heavenly.

“Protection? Hah!” Tennyson scoffed. “More like a gilded cage. I’ve been fighting for my independence, and this incident would undo all of my progress, despite the fact that such a freak incident has nothing to do with my general ability to take care of myself.”

That, Percy had been able to understand. It didn’t feel good when the people around you constantly worried about you and doubted your ability to go a single day without messing everything up. Luckily, over the last few months, and with the help of the luck tattoo, Percy had begun to escape the shackles of his bad luck.

But even though two days had passed without disaster since the rogue magic incident, Percy still couldn’t shake the gnawing worry in his gut. He hadn’t voiced his deepest fear to Tennyson—that even if they did come forward, they might not be believed. After all, Percy had pretended to be on the blood sorcerer’s side. How could he explain that without incriminating himself?

Initially, Percy had planned to wait for the newspapers to report on whether the sorcerers had been arrested before deciding whether or not to come forward with a witness statement. But the papers had been frustratingly vague about both the incident and the ongoing investigation, so Percy was left uncertain, and the more time passed, the more anxious he seemed to feel.

In an attempt to ease his conscience, Percy had gone to see Lieutenant Robards at the copper station. To his dismay, he found the man was out sick, and the coppers wouldn’t give out personal information like addresses, so he couldn’t even visit him. The secret felt like a stone in Percy’s stomach, growing heavier with each passing hour.

Under the cover of darkness, Percy glanced at his family, who were laughing and enjoying the play, blissfully unaware.

Mom and the others had been worried when the sirens went off and he was out somewhere in the city, but when they all gathered together back home, he had lied and told them he got to a shelter near the Charybdis Gulf. The filth he had been unable to wash out of his clothes had been harder to explain, but he had made up a ridiculous story about falling into a butcher’s waste barrel.

With his history, they hadn’t even doubted him.

As the curtain fell for intermission, the Irving family dispersed. Dad took Gideon to the bathroom, while Mom became entangled in conversation with Aethelwulf, who was wheedling for more treats.

Percy seized the opportunity to slip away, hoping to clear his head. He flinched as someone lunged into his peripheral vision and grabbed him by the arm. Percy yanked his arm free and whirled to face the person, his hands automatically curling into fists and rising to defend himself.

Tennyson flinched back and raised his hands, palm out. “Whoa! I commend your reflexes, Percy, but I am an ally!”

Percy looked around nervously and cleared his throat. “Hello, Tennyson. What a coincidence to meet you here.”

Tennyson lowered his hands and gave Percy a somewhat forced smile. “Call me Tenny!” He leaned forward and added in a lower voice, “We’re friends, a bond forged in battle.”

Then he stared expectantly until Percy squeezed out, “Hi, Tenny. What do you want?”

The tall young man adjusted his bright turquoise necktie, which he had worked into an impressively decorative knot. “I was thinking of looking up your information at the Edictum Council and visiting you at your house.” Glancing around furtively in a way that drew more attention than just acting normally would have, Tennyson whispered loudly, “I heard they got away. No one was arrested!”

“Not here!” Percy hissed, grabbing Tennyson’s arm and steering him towards a quieter area. He tried the door to a small closet, but it was locked, and so he guided them to a quiet alcove behind a decorative velvet curtain. He had just turned to try and explain the concept of espionage to Tennyson when Viv swept past the curtain with a bold flourish of her arm.

Both he and Tennyson froze, staring at her with alarm.

Her blue eyes were bright and intent, and a few strands of auburn hair had escaped from the rest, as if she had been standing in a wind storm. “Okay, what’s going on, you two?” She glared up at Tennyson, cocking one hip to the side and crossing her arms aggressively. “And who are you?”

Tennyson smiled charmingly, bowed with an elaborate flourish and tipped an imaginary hat. “Tennyson Bourgeron, at your service, young lady.” He looked at Percy. “Can I tell her how we met? Is she…trustworthy?”

Viv’s scowl grew thunderous, and she turned a wide-eyed, expectant look on Percy.

Percy sighed. “She is.” Any other response would surely bring her wrath, he knew. At least Viv was actually trustworthy. She’d kept the secret of their involvement with the gang fight.

Tennyson excitedly retold how Percy and he had met. Somehow, in the retelling, both he and Percy sounded much more competent and heroic than Percy remembered. Tennyson puffed out his chest. “Honestly, if it weren’t for my connections, I might have had to fight my way out of there alone. My status has its perks, I suppose.”

Viv shared an incredulous look with Percy. “Surely you don’t believe that Percy stayed out of a shelter and entered the zone of a blood magic ritual specifically to find you? How would he even have known you were there? How would he even have known who you were!?”

Tennyson’s face fell, and he looked at Percy uncertainly.

Percy shook his head, confirming Viv’s skepticism.

“You mean to say you were there to save just anyone?” Tennyson asked. “You really do have a heroic nature. However, I must say—and maybe you don’t want to hear it—but you need to improve your skills a little before throwing yourself into such danger. Maybe some fighting lessons. Or even just waiting until you hit another growth spurt.”

Frustration pressed on Percy’s chest from the inside, bubbling up like a volcano approaching eruption. With a deep sigh, Percy forced himself to remain composed and explained what had actually happened before he met Tennyson, trying to be as succinct as possible. At both Viv and Tennyson’s wide eyes and gasps of astonishment, Percy’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. “I know,” he admitted. “I know. I panicked.”

When Percy’s story was over, Viv simply said, “How.” Her voice was so flat that what should have been a question lost all sense of inquiry.

Percy rubbed the wrist with the moth tattoo. “My luck has always been bad.”

“Bad luck? Percy, you got stuck outside in a rogue magic incident, got caught by a blood sorcerer, fooled him into thinking you were also a blood sorcerer, and then fought him.”

Percy had opened his mouth to reply when the velvet curtain was ripped back.

A few feet away, Mom stood with the curtain in hand, panting as if she’d just sprinted across the theatre. “You what!?”

Author Note:

Weekly discussion thread on the Alcove: https://alcove.azaleaellis.com/t/chapter-2-6-weekly-discussion-in-which-percy-fails-at-to-keep-a-secret/862

I've been putting in some hours every day plotting the next PGTS book, A Pact of Stars. Still tentatively on track to start serializing again on Thursday the 6th of November, if all goes well.