Zodiac (Zodiac, #1)(94)

Our magic trick has them on their feet, giving us a rousing standing ovation, and from all over the arenasphere micro-cameras zoom toward me. The colors and lights and flashes and shouts and sounds—it’s all overwhelming.

Small arms embrace me. I look down and see Rubidum. “We’re placing our faith in you, Rho. Bring this monster to justice.”

Now I realize what a grave mistake I’ve made.

I let these people believe I’m more than a whistleblower—that I actually have a plan for defeating someone who can turn our own particles of air against us.

I’m not in the military. I’m not a qualified Zodai. I can’t lead an army. As the cheers rise louder, Neith hands me the speaker’s staff. But for the first time, I have no idea what to say.

My speeches never went beyond pleas to unify the Houses . . . and now it’s done. I’ve accomplished what I set out to do—I’ve sounded the alarm, the very thing Ochus threatened to kill me for attempting. The whole point of joining forces with the other Houses was so I could share the quest for justice—not lead it.

At my silence, Rubidum raises her voice. “House Gemini will outfit forty war ships to crush the butcher. Who’ll join me?”

Ear-splitting cheers erupt from the audience.

“We will!” shouts the amber-eyed Guardian of Sagittarius. I remember her face from the newsfeeds two years ago, when she was named Guardian at just twenty-one years old. “We’ll send tankers.”

“Capricorn will send arks,” their ambassador announces.

The Taurian Guardian shouts, “We’ll supply weapons!”

War ships? Ammunition? Is that what we need?

There’s no stopping the spread of battle frenzy now. Leo’s Leader—who was once the most famous leading man in Zodiac cinema until the stars chose him to lead—pumps his fist in the air. “Our House will send a cruiser!”

When Lord Neith takes up the staff again, he says, “House Libra will provide Psy shields for every ship. The enemy will never see us coming.”

With a broad sweep of his hand, he tosses hundreds of cristobalite beads into the air. People in the audience fight each other to catch them. He tosses more and more, making sure to shower the Guardians and ambassadors. “Personal shields. Contact the Libran embassy for more,” he booms, tossing another handful.

So this is how Hysan kept his promise. A bead bounces off my shoulder, and I scoop it up. “Brilliant,” I tell him. Hysan’s lips hitch up in a subdued smile.

Neith empties his pouch and flings the last handful of beads into the air. “We’re manufacturing more, enough for every House.”

Now all the Guardians, ambassadors, and aides-de-camp are moving their lips furiously, speaking through the Psy. If Ochus hasn’t noticed us yet, he must surely hear this buzz now. He’ll know we’re coming. We’ll have to be stealthy in our planning.

Before I know what I’m doing, I’m addressing the crowd. “Fellow Guardians, every House is a target.” The whole arenasphere goes silent.

“Please take these shields and hurry home to defend your planets. Charge your Zodai to watch the stars. Go over emergency procedures with your people. And above all, open the lines of communication with the other Houses.”

Everyone looks around, like they’re just noticing their neighbors. The audience looks like a color-coded population map: Most wear their House colors and sit only with their own.

“We are each other’s best chance against Ophiuchus. He’s worked hard to keep hidden and has gone to great lengths to keep you from believing my words. He wants us divided. It’s worked for him before. I want to read you something, a Cancrian children’s classic. It’s called ‘Beware Ochus’.”

The Cancrians in the crowd cheer as from memory, I recite:



Once upon a Guardian Star,

When the Zodiac was new,

A Serpent stole in from afar,

And trouble began to brew.



Twelve Houses fell in disarray,

Until the Snake drew their focus.

Their discord he promised to allay,

He told them his true name was Ochus.



Trust in him the Houses did,

But cross them he would in the end.

Their greatest magic Ochus hid,

A wound even time could not mend.



Now we guard against his return,

For before setting off he did warn us,

To one day see our Zodiac burn,

So now we must all Beware Ochus

By the second verse, holographic versions of the poem fill the arenasphere, and everyone is reading out loud with me. When we’ve reached the end, I say, “Making us turn against each other worked for him in the past, but it won’t anymore.”

Voices shout in approval. “Each of us excels at a different skill that ensures our universe’s survival. We were meant to use our abilities together, as a unit, not to distrust each other and keep secrets. Ophiuchus knows how strong we are when we work together. That’s why he’d do anything to keep us apart. Let’s show him he’s right to fear a united Zodiac.”

A slow storm of applause begins to build. “Let’s show him that together, we’re undefeatable.”

The crowd is on their feet, and there’s no calming them now. I don’t know where the strength came from. It was like my nurturing instinct, my impulse to protect my home and loved ones, just extended to the entire Zodiac.