“It’s not ‘fucking around’ if it means solving your problem,” says Landon. “If anything, this is a detour we should be taking. We can use it to gain allies, maybe even find out where some of our friends are.”
I purse my lips. Truth be told, I haven’t given much thought to my other friends since being taken by Hawthorne. The last I saw of Hazel, Xander, and Ruby, they were vanishing in a burning apartment building while being dogpiled by Academy loyalists. For all we know, they could be dead by now, or worse…
Hardly daring to ask the question, I turn to Josie. “I know you’ve been sort of out of commission,” I acknowledge, “but have you happened to hear anything about Hazel Van Buren or the Murakami twins? I know they’re not technically students here, but…”
Josie sighs and shakes her head. “I wish I could tell you they were safe,” she says. “I’ve been keeping my ear to the ground — not much else to do when you’re trapped in your room 24/7 —but the only mention I’ve heard of them is from the higher-ups who’ve passed by on my floor, and a few of the students who have dared to pass on some information.”
“What have they said?” asks Hunter.
“From the sounds of it, they aren’t here,” Josie replies. “Rumour has it some of the Board members are getting antsy that there are still missing students after the attack in Boston. It’s bad publicity for them, and Hawthorne and Russo are getting pissed that there are still loose ends running around.”
“That’s a good thing, right?” asks Landon. “Means they haven’t been recaptured.”
“That’s a fair point,” Silas acknowledges, “but for how long? They’re no better off than we are, and they don’t have the advantage of running with a hybrid.”
“Then you need to find them,” Josie says. “The more people you have on your side, the better. It’s also possible that they’ll have leads to Edith —or vice versa.”
“Sounds like we know what we have to do, then,” Silas says matter-of-factly. “We have to go back to London. It’s as good a place to start as any, and we know that was where they were last. If they’re thinking strategically, they won’t have gone somewhere else, especially with all the other shifters in the city.”
The sound of distant shouts makes me jump, and when I turn around to glance through the trees, I can see uniformed security officers combing the quad like ants. The other students are nowhere to be seen.
“...to be around here somewhere,” I overhear one of the men saying. “She was half-starved. She can’t have gotten too far.”
“Sounds like they’ve finally noticed I’m gone,” Josie says. “That’s our cue to leave. I need everyone to join hands, please.”
I chew my lip for a moment, wondering if a transport spell in her current state will even work, or just drop us somewhere over the Irish Sea, but I know better than to bring it up. She healed Shade after all, even in her weakened state. Wordlessly, I move to take her hand, linking my other with Shade’s limp fingers. The other guys form a circle, relaxing in preparation for the spell. In the distance, I can hear the sounds of the search party growing closer, and a surge of fear rushes through me. I watch as Josie closes her eyes, her brow furrowing in concentration.
For one terrifying moment, and then another, nothing happens. The witch shifter continues to strain, letting out a grunt as she digs deep; I know the feeling all too well by now, and I wish I could do something to help her. There’s the sound of rustling branches, shouting voices, and I can see the others preparing to shift in self-defense. Two security officers appear in the clearing and charge for us, weapons brandished…
And then the ground begins to shift in that telltale sign of teleportation, our bodies becoming translucent. One of the attackers fires his gun, but the bullet passes directly through my torso, which has become intangible. The world around us morphs, and suddenly we find ourselves standing behind an old stone wall in the middle of one of the most picturesque villages I’ve ever seen. A cathedral juts up in the distance, and a country road winds down between thatched-cottages and pristine green grass, disappearing up a hill and towards the waterfront. A woman pushing a tram along the other side of the street freezes when she sees us appear, her eyes going wide, and then lets out a shriek and rushes to escape with her baby.
“Guess she doesn’t know about shifters,” Landon remarks.
“Where are we?” Hunter asks. “This doesn’t look like London.”
“It’s not,” Josie says, breathing hard and putting her hands on her knees. “We’re in Gloucestershire. I was aiming for London, but I’m fatigued, and those agents were closing in on us. This was the best I could do.”
“Well, at least it’s off the radar,” says Silas, shielding his eyes from the sun and peering up the road. “I think there’s a train station in the city proper. We can rest here tonight and leave first thing in the morning. No one’s going to come looking for us here.”
I turn to Josie. “Thank you,” I tell her, and mean it. “You’re welcome to come with us.”
“Thank you,” Josie says ruefully, “but if we’re going to give you your powers back, I need to start preparing. I think I’ll hitch a ride from here. The sooner I can get my strength up, the better.”
“Are you sure?” asks Landon.
The witch shifter nods. “You could very well be the key to defeating Hawthorne, Millie,” she tells me without a hint of facetiousness in her voice. “I want to do everything in my power to make that happen. Focus on finding your friends and getting Edith’s blood. I’ll take care of the rest.” She turns to head up the road, but then stops and glances over her shoulder. “And Mille?” she says.
“Yeah?”
“Good luck. And stay alive.”
Chapter 6
By the time we walk the rest of the way into town, half-supporting and half-carrying Shade as we go, the sun is already low in the sky. We take out rooms for the night in the first inn we come across, courtesy of Hunter and his father's not-inconsiderable means. After a rather awkward conversation with the receptionist, we're at last able to relax. For the time being, anyway.
Once we're settled in—two to a room, split over three connecting suites—I allow myself to flop backwards onto the plush bed, my eyes closing as I try to process the events of the last twenty-four hours. It isn't easy, and just when I think I'm all cried out, I feel more tears welling up. Am I being stupid, I wonder, for mourning the loss of my shifting when there are people whose lives are on the line? Hazel and the twins could be dead in a ditch somewhere, but here I am, lying in bed and feeling sorry for myself. It's ridiculous.
I sit up, stretch, and go to the window. Wallowing won't do me any good. Exhaling, I lean against the frame, staring out over the pastoral fields and winding roads and trying to let my mind wander. I'm not sure how long I stand there, but before I know it, the sun has dropped past the horizon and it's getting dark in the room. We'll have to leave early tomorrow if we want to get back to London by the end of the day, and given how exhausted I am, bed sounds like an excellent idea.