A Secret Meeting Kicks Off a Deadly Mystery In This Excerpt From Zodiac Rising
Author Katie Zhao’s previous YA stories have focused more on the contemporary thriller end of the genre, but she’s going back to her middle-grade fantasy roots with Zodiac Rising, a high-stakes dark academia heist that mixes magic, political intrigue, and an exploration of Chinese mythology.
Described as perfect for fans of A Deadly Education and Legendborn, Zodiac Rising follows a group of students at a hidden magical academy who must solve the mystery of a classmate’s death, reclaim the source of their familes’ power, and break a generational curse. It mixes supernatural beings like vampires and shapeshifters with all too human questions of heritage and belonging, and its propulsive pace promises twists and surprises galore.
Here’s how the publisher describes the story.
At a secret Manhattan boarding school, the Descendants of the Chinese zodiac have hidden away since the source of their magic—the twelve zodiac statues—was vandalized and lost to time. Thus, a curse befell the Descendants, and they’ve lived as creatures of darkness . . . until now.
When the lost statues suddenly resurface and a powerful classmate is found dead, all signs point to foul play from the fae. The Descendants finally have the chance to take back what’s rightfully theirs and break the curse. To pull this deadly heist off, though, they must assemble an elite crew:
THE VAMPIRE: After a century of burning hunger, Evangeline is out for blood.
THE SHAPESHIFTER: Nicholas yearns to restore justice to his people—and make peace with his past.
THE MORTAL: Alice seeks the truth of her mysterious heritage, and this mission may be the key.
THE WEREWOLF: Tristan will do anything to break free from the monstrous wolf inside.
Only these four have the power to save the Descendants, but the wrath of the fae waits at every turn. One wrong move and the fate of their kind will come crashing down. . . .
Zodiac Rising won’t hit shelves until October 1, but we’ve got an exclusive first look at the story for you right now.
Julius
Julius Long was no stranger to being thrust into unexpected, potentially dangerous situations. In fact, he was something of an expert on navigating—and evading—danger. For decades now, Julius had guarded the legacy of the wealthy Long family, one of Manhattan’s most powerful players, which had primed his abilities to improvise and survive perilous plights by the skin of his teeth.
It was shortly after sunset on a school night, and Julius had cut class to come out to the glittering Brooklyn Bridge to wait for someone who might not show up—or, worse, someone who might show up to put an end to him once and for all.
Julius had told no one about his plans for the night. Not his combat teacher, Elder Hou, who was doubtless already worried by Julius’s unexplained absence. Not his Talons, his eight-member gang, who were at his beck and call and who controlled the streets of Chinatown. Not even his younger sister, Evangeline. Oh, he’d left a note behind for Evangeline—he couldn’t shake off the thought that this dangerous decision might be his last. Strolling into what was almost certainly a trap was a rash and irresponsible gamble on his part—a move that was most unlike him, the levelheaded Chancellor who headed the High Council at Earthly Branches Academy.
Julius hadn’t slept or fed on blood in days. He didn’t really need the sleep, as vampires could operate fine without rest, but he found himself regretting not downing one last blood bag before heading out tonight. Well, it was too late for regrets now. No matter what, Julius would see through his duty to his people, the Descendants.
“Gou, Ji, Yang, She, Long,” Julius said into the shadows, as he had been instructed. Dog, rooster, sheep, snake, dragon.
For a long moment, only silence answered. Then the quiet was broken by the sound of chatter. A pair of people, a homeless man and woman by the looks of their disheveled clothing, walked by. They threw Julius a curious look.
“What’re you looking at?” Julius grumbled, and the pair hurried off.
Annoyance welled within Julius as he gazed upon the abandoned building in front of him. It was once the site of the Fulton Fish Market, but now the old building stood silent, left to crumble and rot. It was also the site of Julius’s appointment, except it was past 8 p.m. now, and the appointer was nowhere in sight. If there was one thing Julius despised, it was having his time wasted.
The only reason Julius had come tonight was the magical stationery that had appeared on his desk the day before. It was a sign, he’d thought, the sign he had been waiting for. At long last, the five missing bronze zodiac statues—dog, rooster, sheep, snake, dragon—had surely been found. Whoever had sent the note was no doubt a powerful being capable of great magic. A shaman, perhaps. More likely, the note had come from a faerie. It would explain why the note had been covered in glimmering magical dust. But the dust could very well be a red herring.
Well, no matter. In moments, Julius would have his answer.
Come alone to the building where the Fulton Fish Market used to be, near the Brooklyn Bridge on South Street between Beekman and Fulton Streets, at 8 p.m. sharp tomorrow. I have information about the five missing zodiac heads. Announce your presence to me by naming the heads, and I will give you that which you desire—for a price.
The note had burst into fire and burned into nothingness shortly after Julius read it, but thankfully his sharp memory retained the contents of the message. It was a risk coming out here, but it was a risk Julius was willing to take. The fae hadn’t communicated with the Descendants in decades. He needed to see for himself why that had changed. Why now, of all times, they’d decided to come forward with information regarding the missing fountainheads.
After receiving the note, Julius had rushed about the estate, taking care of as many affairs as possible, tying up loose ends. He did his best to behave as though business were as usual, especially in front of Evangeline. Julius’s darling little sister mustn’t know that he was swimming through dangerous waters. Not until it was necessary for her to know. He would do anything to protect and help her—even when he knew she wouldn’t agree with his actions. That was why, against his every instinct, Julius had traipsed out here tonight.
A hoarse whisper floated on the wind, entering Julius’s ear.
“My, how obedient you are, Descendant.”
That voice. He could’ve sworn he recognized that voice, though he couldn’t quite place it. Was it one of the fae he’d clashed with during and after the Opium Wars? Julius’s memory was exceptional, yet even he could not recall specific details from the battles he’d fought over a century ago. Back then, the shamans were waging a turf war with the fae in Chinatown, which ended in neutrality in the 1930s. Both had kept to themselves afterward, with the shamans disappearing into the Underground and the fae taking up residence north of Fifty-Ninth Street. As immortals who were proud of their magic and legacy, the shamans and fae particularly detested supernatural beings who had once been human, like the Descendants. In fact, following the turf war, the shamans and fae agreed, for once, that it was in each of their best interests never to align with the Descendants, to do whatever they could to keep the Descendants from growing too powerful.
In this manner, the supernaturals reached an uneasy truce. The difficult thing about an uneasy truce, however, is that any singular incident can upset the balance.
Tonight, Julius thought, could be that upsetting event.
Julius clenched his hands into fists, whirling around. This being, whoever they were, brimmed with ancient magic. He sensed the energy humming in the air, subtle but sharp. He felt it deep in his bones. And he knew instinctively, too, that on this night—an otherwise innocuous summer night, a night like any other—he had arrived, at last, at the point of no return. He had delivered himself to Death’s doorstep, in fact. The knowledge didn’t frighten Julius. It electrified him.
Twelve powerful families—no, all of China and its diaspora—had waited decades for an answer, for justice, for anything at all to be done in the wake of the ruination of the Old Summer Palace. Now Julius sensed that he was finally on the brink of uncovering something revolutionary. The question was—would he survive to carry the message back to his people?
For once in his life, Julius did not have the answer.
The messenger emerged out of thin air, wearing emerald robes that shimmered with golden light at the ends of his sleeves. His long white-blond hair floated around him. His skin was the palest snow, glowing with an ethereal light, and his eyes were the black of eternal night. A faerie, indeed.
Julius had to force himself to glance away from the faerie, lest his beauty blind him or drive him mad. He knew the tricks of the fae—knew that their glamour made them appear even more beautiful than they were—and yet, for all his decades of knowledge, he still found himself vulnerable to faerie beauty. Perhaps the immortals were right. Perhaps those who were once mortal would always bear their mortal weaknesses.
“You are the one who sent the note?” asked Julius, his voice hoarse. He cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders, drawing himself to his full height. He felt tiny next to the faerie, and hideous compared to his beauty. But Julius had to at least appear to be in control of the situation, and he quite excelled at this after more than a hundred years of practice. “You told me you had information about the missing zodiac fountainheads.”
“I do. In fact, I know exactly where they are.” The Mandarin rolled off the faerie’s tongue as smoothly as though it were his native language, but Julius knew the truth: the fae were extremely intelligent and worldly creatures who needed only to overhear one foreign conversation in order to smoothly incorporate it into their linguistic repertoire. The faerie’s voice was high and wispy, and it had a lyrical quality, like a song—an enticing melody that could easily ensnare Julius, if he wasn’t careful.
“The fountainheads are together? All five of them? In Faerieland?” For a moment, Julius’s disbelief overcame the power of the faerie’s aura. He hadn’t expected all five missing fountainheads to be together; he thought, coming here tonight, that he’d learn information about one or two at best.
The faerie nodded. “Do not accuse the Folk of being thieves,” he continued as though he’d read Julius’s mind, his words adopting a sharp, biting quality. “We merely intercepted the British soldiers—the true culprits.”
Still, you did not come forward until now, Julius thought spitefully, but he managed to restrain himself from retorting aloud. Instead he smoothed over his features. The first trick to successfully doing business, which his own father had taught him over a century ago, was mastering the poker face. Showing emotion was as good as giving the other party the upper hand.
“Well,” Julius said, a bit of snark oozing into his voice despite his best efforts, “I am unsurprised that the fae have secretly had possession of Descendant property, given how your kind is . . . mischief-prone.”
The faerie covered his mouth with a slender hand, and he began to laugh. That, too, sounded like music, which both pleased and irritated Julius no end.
“Why are you coming forward now?” Julius asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Why are you helping me?”
“The fae do not all think alike. We are not a monolith. We do not all believe that pillaging and thieving are proper conduct.”
“Could have fooled me,” Julius muttered. From what he’d seen, the fae never cared about anyone besides themselves, but they did enjoy the opportunity to make fools out of the shamans. “So how can I find the fountainheads?”
The faerie scoffed. “You can’t find them. Or rather, I should say, you aren’t the one meant to bring them back to your people.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Julius asked sharply.
“A faerie Seer delivered a prophecy to the High Council of the Descendants one day and one night after the Circle of Twelve was broken.” The faerie’s voice grew lower and more ethereal, and he closed his eyes as he recited the words that Julius had heard so long ago: “The key to restoring glory rests with Midsummer’s sprout; but if greed sows discord, harmony will be in doubt.”
“I know, I know. I was already Chancellor of the High Council by then. I heard that prophecy in person.” Every Descendant knew about this prophecy, so Julius wasn’t sure why the faerie was rambling on about such matters of common knowledge. He tried to bite back his impatience, but this proved very difficult, as it had been well over a century since the Circle of Twelve had been cruelly broken, and now, at last, he stood a chance of reclaiming the might that rightfully belonged to his people—if only this creature would stop talking in riddles.
Now the faerie’s eyes fluttered open, and they had, alarmingly, changed color from black to white, like two glowing orbs against the dark of night. Ignoring Julius’s frustration, he continued. “The Seer then stated that he would make a reappearance when the time was nigh, when the full moon coincided with the summer solstice during the Midsummer Celebration. He would claim the soul of a worthy Descendant in exchange for the successful completion of the prophecy.”
This, too, Julius recalled the Seer predicting those many years ago; only now, a small pit of dread began to form in his stomach. There was a hungry glint in the faerie’s eye that he did not like. The full moon . . . He glanced upward, and his stomach did a flip. The moon was a swollen, almost fully circular orb in the sky.
Slowly, ever so slowly, Julius began to back away. His instinct was screaming for him to run, to put as much space between him and this faerie as he possibly could. It had been a very long time since he was that young, adjusting to his new role as Chancellor, and the sands of time had blurred that memory, had dulled every sharp edge of the faerie Seer’s appearance, so he had not put the pieces together at first. The longer he stared at the faerie, however, the more puzzle pieces clicked into place. “You . . .”
“Did you really forget my face, Long Yineng?” asked the faerie, his lips curling into a smile that did not reach his eyes.
“It’s Julius now.” This he said in English, as a reminder that he had spent most of his life in the States and was as much American now as he was Chinese.
“Julius? An American name.” The faerie shifted just as easily from Mandarin to English.
Julius spoke with a calm and pleasant air even as he continued to inch backward. “Indeed. Nobody has called me Yineng in a long, long time.”
“Shedding your identity and shunning your old ways in a drab attempt at assimilation. What could possibly be more American?”
Julius might have taken offense under different circumstances, but at the moment, he didn’t care if the faerie pelted him with every insult under the sun; he just had to keep him talking while he planned his escape. The fingers of his left hand curled into a fist, and then unfurled. In his palm, there was an emptiness where once there had been blazing power, the ghost of a magic long lost. If only he still held that power—then Julius would bring this infernal faerie to his knees by Paralyzing him with a single flick of his wrist, as he had done to many unfortunate opponents back in the glory days of the Descendants. Yet Julius had made peace with this new life of his, this immortal life—and he would not give it up without a fight.
The faerie did not follow as Julius continued to back away, and this was even more frightening than if he had. The only reason the faerie Seer would not come after him was that he had absolute confidence Julius could not escape.
“I must confess I am a little disappointed in you, Julius, but that is neither here nor there. It is time now. The full moon and summer solstice will converge in a little over two days, and I have come to collect my payment from the Descendants.”
“You cannot,” Julius stated with as much authority as he could force into his voice—a considerable amount. He had led the Descendants for decades, had built them up once more after the pillaging of the Old Summer Palace wiped out their numbers and might and morale. Julius was accustomed to bending others to his will, and a faerie Seer would be no different. “How dare you try to take my soul? You must be out of your mind.”
The faerie’s eyes flashed a brilliant red, and the air around him crackled with magic. “A true leader would willingly sacrifice himself for the good of his people, Julius.”
“A true fool would do such a thing.”
The Seer blinked, unfazed. Perhaps he often encountered resistance from those who heard his prophecies. “When your kind summoned me all those years ago, I named the hefty price of the prophecy, and you agreed to pay it, did you not?”
“I didn’t realize you would come for my soul,” Julius growled. “You can have almost any other soul except mine. The Descendants would not be here without my leadership, and they cannot hope to endure without me.”
“But the soul of any other Descendant would be lesser, and thus worth the sacrifice?” Contempt dripped from the faerie’s words.
“You can drop that high-and-mighty tone with me, Seer. I’m not here to debate moralities with you. My soul is not up for bargaining.”
“Oh, rest assured—there will be no bargaining tonight,” said the faerie coldly. “I delivered the prophecy, and now I am here to collect my payment. You cannot stop fate, so do not try, Julius Long.”
Quick as a flash, the faerie flung out his sleeve toward Julius’s chest—the place where a heart would have been beating if he had still been human. A vampire’s reflexes were superbly fast, and Julius was able to duck the attack. A sharp weapon went sailing over his head.
“A wooden stake,” Julius sneered, backflipping high up into the air and landing in a nearby tree. “You came prepared.”
The Seer licked his lips as he gazed up at Julius. “You really ought not to prolong the inevitable, Descendant. You are only drawing out your own excruciating ending.”
“We’ll see which of us meets an excruciating ending tonight.” With that, Julius leapt down and grabbed the wooden stake. There was a struggle to gain control of the weapon, during which Julius judged that he’d vastly underestimated the strength of the faerie Seer. His grip was like iron, his eyes returned to their bottomless black.
“Give it up,” Julius snarled. He and the Seer were so close to each other now that they were practically nose to nose. They were the same height, yet the faerie still dared to look down upon him.
“What you are doing now will cost your people greatly. Do not be stupid.”
Julius’s muscles were aching. Even his superhuman strength was slowly being sapped by the faerie Seer.
“You grow weak,” hissed the faerie.
“I do nothing of the sort.”
“Oh, do not lie to me, Descendant. I am sorry for this—truly I am—but there is no other way. Such a grand prophecy requires steep payment. Trading five priceless artifacts for just one—rather a nice bargain for you, don’t you think?”
Cold sweat beaded on Julius’s forehead, dripping down his nose. Despite the fact that the odds of survival were stacked against him, Julius maintained a cool, calm facade. If he had learned one lesson over decades of navigating life-threatening situations, it was this: There was always a way out. One only needed to be clever and resourceful enough to pave the path of escape.
“What does a faerie Seer want with a soul, anyway?” Julius asked. It was imperative that he keep the faerie talking for as long as possible.
“A soul, even a mortal human one, is worth so much more than you could even fathom, Descendant. And the soul of the leader of the Descendants—the amount of power one could harness from it . . .” The faerie Seer closed his eyes dreamily and shuddered. “These souls are wasted in your bodies.”
Gritting his teeth, Julius glanced up into the faerie’s face, and the face shifted, and he saw him. Truly saw him, in all his great and terrible beauty. He did not know whether he wanted to fall at the Seer’s feet and kiss the ground or sprint away screaming.
“You—” Julius let go of the wooden stake, almost without thinking. It finally, finally dawned on him that he wasn’t going to make it back to the estate. And Evangeline—he would be leaving his mèi mei all alone, just as their parents had left them all those long years ago. He’d known that this outcome was a possibility, but faced with the imminent reality of it, Julius was filled with a piercing sensation of fear and regret.
Was he truly ready? For parting with Evangeline forever? For the end of everything he’d ever known?
“Struggling is pointless. It will only prolong your suffering.” A note of sadness entered the Seer’s voice as he aimed the wooden stake at Julius’s chest. Perhaps he regretted what he was doing.
Faced with his mortality after so long, Julius thought only of his sister. She was going to be upset when he didn’t bring her a fresh bag of blood tomorrow, as he did every evening before classes. He croaked, “Is Evangeline . . . Midsummer’s sprout . . .”
“Farewell, Descendant.”
When the faerie pressed the tip of the wooden stake into Julius’s chest, fire burst forth out of nowhere, surrounding them. The Seer’s eyes widened in surprise. But it was too late to choke out any last words, for the smoke had already entered the lungs of both Descendant and faerie.
Sirens sounded from the distance, the macabre tune to which the city thrummed. In fact, the song of sirens was so commonplace that it would scarcely turn the heads of the Manhattanites, who were focused on rushing to their next destination.
By the time the fire trucks at last reached the bottom of the Brooklyn Bridge, it was too late. Julius Long, beloved son of the late Muchen and Jiaqi Long, Chancellor of the High Council of the Descendants, the last remaining male heir to the House of Dragon . . . was gone.
Zodiac Rising will be released on October 1, but you can pre-order it right now.
Lacy Baugher Milas is the Books Editor at Paste Magazine, but loves nerding out about all sorts of pop culture. You can find her on Twitter @LacyMB