Fivers.
My heart skipped a beat and burned inside my chest. A fiver could be Rina, Wren, Dave, or Adalia. When I’d left, we were all fivers, and I’d last seen all of them heading toward the fight. Dave especially had been running toward the fray that had Gorky at its center.
And Professor Quickfoot! The gnome was strong, fierce, and kind. And the pygmy trolls … they were like sour lemons, but I didn’t want to lose a single one of them.
Against Damon’s chest, I whispered, “Which fivers died?”
“Fletcher Sowder and Keagan Banes.”
My heart squeezed, aching at the loss of two classmates I barely knew. They were part of the “other” group of supernaturals, headed by Professor Quickfoot, so we’d been separated from the start. But since Adalia was a fairy, and was therefore also placed in the “other” group, she would have known them well.
My voice was thick as I asked, “Why didn’t Selene’s father bring them all back?”
Orangesicle answered from ahead of us: “He couldn’t. After he brought back Selene and Wendell, two other angels descended to escort him back. In shackles. He broke the rules of the First Celestial Order.”
I opened my mouth, wanting to offer the pygmy troll some comfort, though it had never been my style. Still, the steeliness of his voice revealed the depth of his loss, despite how he tried to conceal it, and I should say … something.
But not a single word bubbled up; loss racked through me, bouncing around like the little shiny ball in a pinball arcade game, bruising me everywhere it hit.
I was gone while everyone I left behind had to deal with all this.
Damon held me for so long that I never wanted to leave the warm safety of his arms.
But I had to. If everyone else had had to cope with this tragedy while I was in Happy Land and Panland, the least I could do was to finally join them in facing it.
Also, there was a war brewing. I had to do my part to bring the Voice down. After all, my pendant had drawn Gorky and his force here. Sure, I realized it wasn’t really my fault. The magical object grabbed me and wouldn’t let go. I didn’t know better when I put it on, and no one could truly be blamed for not doing better when they didn’t know better.
Still, I glared at the front pocket of my jean shorts, shooting death rays at the pendant that lay within it. I wasn’t going to take any of this lying down. Surely the magical community was ready to fight back with real fury. I’d never felt more ready.
My voice cracked as I eked out one final question: “How long have I been gone?”
“School’s about to let out,” Sadie said from up ahead, not turning around. Like Orangesicle, she stared off into the distance. I wondered if she might be picturing the faces of all the friends she’d lost to this fight already. “Damon and I were coming to pick up the new recruits for the Enforcers.”
My shoulders shook.
But one thing at a time.
I’d transported to Happy Land at the end of my fifth term. Which meant I’d been there for the three months of the summer vacation, and then the four months of this semester. I’d been in Happy Land for seven months while my friends faced death and loss without me.
Finally, I steeled myself and turned away from Damon, pretending not to notice the dampness I left behind on his shirt. Head held high like I knew what the hell I was doing, I announced: “I want to join the Enforcers.”
Sadie turned around, setting her ponytail to swinging, and arched her brows at me. Then she shared a long, intense stare with Damon. Neither said a word, and Orangesicle continued to be somewhere else.
Val and Why rubbed against me. And though I knew my decision would affect them, I didn’t feel that I had a choice. “I’m not going to change my mind,” I said.
“We wouldn’t ask you to,” said Sadie.
“Good,” I answered, and resumed my march toward the large, extravagant gate that admitted students to the academy.
It seemed it would be my last time entering it as one.
3
Every other time I’d approached the academy’s gate, I’d been impressed by its opulence. Even if over-the-top bling wasn’t my thing, it was clear that skilled craftsmen—or women—had been entrusted with its creation. The sky, always a bright blue thanks to the Academy Spell, reflected off its precious metals and glimmered off its many gems, making the gate gleam. Ordinarily, I couldn’t help but admire the official entrance to the academy. Today, the double gate might as well have been a cardboard cutout. All I could see was Roberta and those dark, pupil-less eyes trained on me. She stood as if frozen in front of the towering gate, arms hanging at her sides, eyes wide. As always, one ear stood at attention and the other drooped forward, lending the impression for a quick second that she was a cute bunny, albeit one the size of a small human—my size. But there was nothing gentle about the matriarch who’d reared three-hundred and thirty-three ferocious children—and lost several of them to violent deaths. Dressed today in combat leathers, she appeared ready to take her vengeance.
My heart, which already ached at the news of all the loss, seized at the pain radiating from her even at a distance. I didn’t think. I just ran … and quickly remembered that I was barefoot on pebbles and carrying a pandacorn cub and a dragon’s egg.
Without stopping, I tightened my grip on both of them and leapt the rows of flowers, crossing over to the thick grass that lined either side of the path. Behind me, Val jumped the flowers as well and kept pace, trotting beside me.
Several other rabbits surrounded Roberta. Undoubtedly they were her children. If any other crazy, killer, talking, human-sized rabbits existed in the supernatural world, I was unaware of them. I also probably didn’t want to know.
As she watched me approach, Roberta raised a shaky paw to where the fur popped out of the low-cut V-neck of her combat leathers, which were mostly for looks since they exposed the soft flesh of her chest, and finally seemed to recover from the shock of seeing me. She dropped to all fours, hopped over to me, then settled onto her hind legs and opened her arms, flashing fire-engine-red-painted claws.
I didn’t slow, and rather slammed straight into her waiting arms, pulling back at the end just enough not to crush Egg or injure Why as he pressed between us in our embrace. The cub squirmed as Roberta hugged me for all she was worth, turning her head to the side to avoid the piercing tip of Why’s horn.
“I thought ya was dead too,” she said in a voice that reached into my chest cavity, clutched my heart, and wrenched it, beating, from between my ribs. “I thought I’d never see ya ‘gain.”
I wasn’t a hugger. Never had been. I was pretty sure Roberta wasn’t a hugger either. I didn’t think anyone as fierce as she was could like the mushy stuff. But just then we transcended all divides and I melted in her arms. I held Why across my hip with one arm, like the baby he was, and hugged Roberta with the other, Egg beneath my armpit, like the gesture alone could fix all the tragedy she’d had to endure.
“I’m so incredibly sorry, Roberta,” I whispered to her, my head only slightly taller than hers. I hooked it across her shoulder. “I heard that … some of your kids…” I trailed off, unable to finish my sentence as her slender frame shook.