Firespell

“Or ET, as the idiots like to call it,” Scout added with a grin, bobbing her head toward the boys.

Jason lifted his gaze to mine, and there was concern there. “Did you say you’ve been to the city room?” He looked over at Scout, and this time his gaze was accusatory. “You let her into the city room?”

“I didn’t let her in,” Scout defended. “I wasn’t even there. The preps found the room and led her down there, locked her in.”

Jason put his hands on his hips. He was definitely not happy. “Regulars know about the city room?”

“I told you people would get through,” Scout said. “Not all the tunnels are blocked off. I told you this was going to happen eventually.”

“Not now,” Michael interjected. “We don’t need to talk about this right now.”

A little tension there, I guessed. “Why the tunnels in the first place?” I wondered. “If Reapers are out to suck the souls from humans and keep you guys from getting in their way, why don’t they just bust through the front door of St. Sophia’s and take out the school?”

“We may be a splinter cell,” Jason said, “but we’ve got one thing in common with the Reapers—no one wants to be outed to the public. We don’t want to deal with the chaos, and Reapers like being able to steal a soul here and there without a lot of public attention.”

“People probably wouldn’t take that very well,” I said.

“Exactly,” Scout agreed with a nod. “Reapers don’t want to be locked up in the crazy house—or experimented on—any more than we do. So we keep our fights out of the public eye. We keep them underground, or at least off the streets. We usually make it out and back without problems, but they’ve been aggressive lately. More aggressive than usual,” she muttered.

I remembered what Scout had told me about their long, exhausting summer. I guessed ornery, magic-wielding teenagers could do that to a girl.

“They have given chase a lot lately,” Jason said. “We’re all thinking they must be up to something.”

The room got quiet, the three of them, maybe contemplating just what the Reapers might be up to. Then they looked at me expectantly, maybe waiting for a reaction—tears or disbelief or enthusiasm. But I still had questions.

“Do you look forward to it?” I asked.

Scout tilted her head. “To what?”

“To giving up your powers?” I uncrossed my legs and buried my toes in the blanket—this place was as frosty as St. Sophia’s. “I mean, you’ve got costs and benefits either way, right? Right now, you all have some kind of power. You hit puberty, and you get used to being all magically inclined, but then you have to give it up. Doesn’t that bother you?”

They exchanged glances. “It’s the way it is,” Scout quietly said. “Magic is part of who we are now, but it won’t be part of us forever.”

“But neither will midnight meetings and obnoxious Reapers and power-happy Varsity Adepts.”

Scout lifted her eyebrows at Jason’s mini-tirade.

“I know,” Jason said. “Not the time.”

I guessed things weren’t entirely hunky-dory in Enclave Three. “So the guy that blasted me, or whatever. You said his name was Sebastian. And he’s a Reaper.”

Scout nodded. “That’s him.”

“He said something before he blasted me. What was that?”

“Ad meloria,” Michael said. “It’s Latin. Means ‘toward better things.’ ”

I raised my eyebrows. “I’m guessing that’s their motto.”

“You’d be right,” Scout said. “They think the world would be a better place if they kept their magic. They think they’re the elite, and everyone should give them their due. A survival of the fittest kind of thing.”

“Survival of the craziest, more like,” Jason muttered. He glanced down at his watch, then looked up at Michael. “We probably need to head,” he said, then glanced at me. “Sorry to leave you in here. We’ve got some stuff at MA this afternoon.”

“No problem. Thanks for coming by. And thanks for the flower.”

He stuck his hands into his pockets and grinned back at me. “No problem, Parker. Glad you’ve rejoined the land of the living.”

I grinned back at him, at least until Scout’s throat clearing pulled my attention away.

“I should also head back,” she said, pulling a massive, baffled down jacket off the back of her chair. She squeezed into it, then fastened the clips that held it together. The white jacket went past her knees, which made it look like she had on nothing but tights and thick-soled Dr. Martens Mary Janes beneath it.

“You look like the Pillsbury Snow Boy.”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s breezy out there today. Not all of us have these warm, lush accommodations to look forward to.”

I snuggled into the bed, thinking I’d better gather what warmth I could, given the possibility that I’d be returning to my meat locker of a room tomorrow.

“Take care,” Michael said, rapping his knuckles on the tray at the end of the bed. I assumed that was the macho-guy equivalent of giving me a hug. Either way, I appreciated the gesture.

I smiled back at him. “I’m sure I’ll see you soon.”

“And hopefully under better circumstances.” He cast Scout a sideways glance. “Green.”

She rolled her eyes. “Garcia.” When she looked at me again, she was smiling. “I’ll give you a call later.”

I nodded.

The trio gathered up their things, and I clenched my fingers, itching to ask one final question. Well, scared to ask it, anyway. My palms were actually sweating, but I made myself get it out.

“Jason.”

They all turned back at the sound of his name.

He arched his eyebrows. “Yeah?”

“Could I talk to you for a sec?”

“Um, sure.” He shouldered his backpack, then exchanged a glance with Scout and Michael. She winged up her brows, but let Garcia push her toward and out the door.

When the door shut behind them, Jason glanced back at me. “Everything okay?”

“Oh, yeah.” I frowned down at the blanket for a minute before finally raising my gaze to his crystal blue eyes. “Listen, I just wanted to say thanks. For getting me out of the basement, I mean. If it hadn’t been for you and Scout—”

“You wouldn’t have gotten hit in the first place,” he finished.

I opened my mouth, then closed it again, not really able to argue that point.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he softly said. “And for what it’s worth, you’re welcome, Lily.”

I liked the way he said my name, as if it weren’t just a series of letters, but a word thick with meaning. Lily.

“I mean, I’m not glad you got wrapped up in this—especially since you don’t have magic to defend yourself with.” He tipped his head to the side. “Although, I think I heard something about a flip-flop?”

“I guess Scout’s been giving up all my offensive moves?”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “And impressive moves they are. I mean, who’d have thought that a few square inches of foam were really a technologically advanced—”

“All right, Shepherd. You’ve made your point.”

“Have I?” he asked, with a half smile.

Turned out, Jason’s half smile was even more deadly than the full, dimpled grin. The half smile was drowsier—almost ridiculously handsome.

“You did,” I finally said.

We stared silently at each other for a moment before he bobbed his head toward the door. “I guess I should join Scout and Michael?”

He made it a question, as if he didn’t want to leave, but could sense my nerves. Heart pounding fiercely in my chest, I stopped him. “Actually, one more thing.”

He raised questioning brows.

“When we were down there in the basement. When I got hit. I thought—I thought I heard a growl. Like an animal.”

His eyes widened, lips parting in surprise. He hadn’t expected me to bring it up, but I couldn’t get the sound out of my mind.

Jason hadn’t yet given me an answer, so I pressed on. I knew the growling hadn’t come from Scout—she’d admitted to being a spellbinder. And I didn’t think it had come from earthquake girl or firespell boy. Jason was the only other person there.

“That sound,” I said. “Was it you?”

He gazed at me, a chill in his blue eyes, shards of icy sapphire.

“Scout gave you the simple answer about Adepts,” he finally said. “She told you that we each have magic, a gift of our own. That’s a short answer, but it’s not entirely accurate.” He paused, then wet his lips. “I’m not like the others.”

My heart thudded so fiercely, I wouldn’t have been surprised if he could hear it. It took me a moment to ask him. “How much not like them?”

When Jason looked up at me again, the color of his eyes had shifted to green and then to a silvered yellow, like those of a cat caught in the light. And there was something wolfish in his expression.

“Enough,” he said, and I’d swear his voice was thicker, deeper. “Different enough.”

He turned to go.

My heart didn’t stop pounding until the door closed behind him.

10

The room was quiet after the triplets left, at least for a few minutes. The doctor finally visited and looked me over, and reached the same conclusion that had been passed along earlier—I was fine. Notably, he didn’t ask me what threat sent me from an all-girls’ private school to a hospital.

Whatever he knew, I had hours yet to kill in the hospital. For the first ten minutes, I flipped my cell phone over and over in my hand, trying to gather up the nerve to call Ashley. But she was probably still in class and, besides, what was I going to tell her? That I’d met some magical weirdos who’d managed to rope me into their shenanigans? I wasn’t crazy about the idea of that conversation, or how I was going to explain it without sounding completely loopy—so I put the phone down again and glanced around the room. Since no one had brought me homework—and I wasn’t about to ask for any—I turned on the television bolted to the wall, settled back into the bed, and had just started watching a reality show about bored, rich housewives when there was a knock at the door.

I had no idea who else would visit—other than brat packers hoping to gloat about their victory—but I pointed the remote at the television and turned it off.

“Come in,” I said.

The door opened and closed, followed by the sound of heels clacking on the tile floor. Foley appeared from around the corner, hands clasped before her, a tidy, pale suit on her slender frame, ash-blond hair tidy at her shoulders. Her expression was all business.

“Ms. Parker.” Foley walked to the window, pushed aside a couple of the slats in the blinds, and glanced out at the city. “How are you feeling?”

“Good, considering.”

“You lost consciousness,” she said. Said, not asked.

“That’s what I hear.”

“Yes, well. I trust, Ms. Parker, that you understand the importance of our institution’s reputation, and of the value of discretion. We, of course, do not wish to elicit untoward attention regarding the hijinks of our students. It would not serve St. Sophia’s, nor its students or alumnae, for the community or the press to believe that our institution is not a safe place for its students.”

I don’t know what she knew about what went on—or what she thought went on—but she was certainly keen on keeping it quiet.

“I also trust that you understand well enough the importance of caring for your physical well-being, and that you will take sufficient care to ensure that you do not lose consciousness again.”

That made me sit up a little straighter. What did she think—that I was starving myself and I’d passed out for lack of food? If only she’d seen the private moment I shared with the pudding cup earlier.

“I take care of myself,” I assured her.

“All evidence to the contrary.”

Okay, honestly, there was a tiny part of me that wanted to rat on Scout, Jason, Michael, and the rest of the Adepts, or at least on the brat packers who threw me into harm’s way. It would have been satisfying to wipe that smug expression from Foley’s face, and replace it with something a bit more sympathetic.

There were two problems with that theory.

First, I wasn’t entirely sure Foley was capable of sympathy.

Second, I had to be honest. I hadn’t gone downstairs because Veronica and the rest of her cronies had forced me. And I’d made my way down the other hallway—and into the Reapers’ path—because I’d decided to play junior explorer. I’d been curious, and I’d walked that plank willingly.

Besides, I could have walked away from all of it earlier. I could have stepped aside, told Jason, Michael, and Scout that I didn’t want to be included in their magical mystery tour, and let them handle their Reaper problems on their own. But I’d invited their trust by asking them to fill me in, and I wasn’t about to betray it.

So this time, I’d take one for the team. But Scout so owed me.

“You’re right,” I told her. Her eyes instantaneously widened, as if she were surprised a teenager would agree with her orders. “It’s been a stressful week.” Total truth. “I should take better care of myself.”