Eye of the Storm by Emmie Mears Page B

Asher adjusts her backpack on her back. Even though we've been moving quickly for the better part of a half hour, she isn't even out of breath. Maybe she's one of those pregnant woman who still does interval training.
    She's right, and I hate it.  
      I can't feel Saturn in my mind, or Miles. I try to find them, but all I catch is a blank.  
    I don't answer Asher, just turn south on the next road and head in the direction of the Summit.

    The walk back seems to take forever. We encounter three small packs of hellkin, but none of them give us much trouble. Asher's blade-ball spell takes out one entire trio of harkasts before the shades and I have time to move into action.  
    Evis positively beams at her, and she gives him a tight return smile.
    By the time we reach the front doors of the Summit, a couple of the other groups are returning. I see Hardy already inside, and Billy Bob and Sal's groups meet us in the parking lot. Sal's got her arm in a sling, but she looks otherwise fine. Billy Bob is grinning ear to ear and smells even worse than usual due to the golgoth slime that has hardened his flannel shirt into a shell.  
    "Party," is all he says. "We crashed it."
    I want to smile at him, but I can't.
    I hurry up to Hardy in the Summit lobby. "Any word from Mira?"  
    He looks at me, clearly startled. "She was in the sector right next to you. I thought you'd end up meeting up with them."
    I tell him what we found, and his face goes stony. Billy Bob halts in his dissertation on the correct way to puncture golgoth boils.  
    "Gonzales? She's gone?"
    My murderous look is nothing compared to the snarls that come from Sol and Luna. Frantic, I wave at them to calm down. Fuck, but this could get bad. Billy Bob looks about to piss himself, eyes darting back and forth between Luna and Sol like they're velociraptors and he can feel their long claws in his belly already.
    "Not gone," I say, voice clipped. Even though he's right. Gone is the best word for it. But I'm not going to believe it yet. "Are the other groups all back?"
    Hardy nods. "Everyone else is back. One team stopped at the campus, but they're on their way."
    "I took the last point on Gonzales's leg," Asher says, holding her map out to Hardy. He gives her a jerky nod of approval.  
    A scrawny Mitten comes barreling down the stairs. He stops halfway down, eyes wild. I realize it's the same Mitten who remarked on my eyes earlier. Right now he doesn't seem to care if I'm human, shade, or a platypus. It's me he looks at when he stammers the news.
    "J-J-Jacksonville fell," he says. "And Raleigh."
    I can't help the gooseflesh that sweeps over my arms any more than I can help the stab of fear in my heart.  
    I nod at the kid, doing everything in my power to keep my fear from showing on my face. "Did you just come from Alamea?"
    Even the kid's nod bobbles. "Charlotte and Asheville are preparing."
    Preparing.  
    The Mitten flees back upstairs, leaving the lobby full of people in stunned silence. Somehow the words echo through the domed room, punctuated by the fading sound of his footsteps. All I can hear is the rugged breaths of a few dozen people wondering how many they have left.
    Four cities in a day.  
    This is going to be a long night.

    Mason is with Gryfflet and Carrick upstairs, and I go to them, trailing Evis and Luna and Sol.
    One look at my face, and both Mason and Carrick embrace me at once. It's an awkward group hug, all elbows and locks of hair in my face, but it alleviates a tiny bit of the pressure in my chest.
    Nana's cage is over in the corner, and she's curled up asleep. At the sound of people entering the room, though, she stretches and gives a toothy bunny yawn. I wave at her over Carrick's shoulder. Her nose twitches.
    Gryfflet looks up from a pile of scrolls and herbs at the far end of the conference table. "Mira can take care of herself," he says.
    Somehow it's the right thing to say. He's right.  
    "I know," I say. I need a distraction. Extricating