but we have to move fast to stop the damage. I have room for one more.”
Trent spun to me. His face was riven with a worry he was trying to hide with a cool efficiency. It all fell apart when he looked at Ray, then me and whispered, “Rachel . . .”
I couldn’t hear him, but I could read his lips. Something in me twisted, and I shoved it aside. “Go!” I said, propelling him toward the door as the wind whipped my hair around. “I’ve got this! Call me when you know something!”
He kissed Ray’s fingers, looking her firmly in her eyes. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” His eyes rose to mine as the blades shrieked in the air. “Thank you.”
I held Ray closer, letting her see as we backed away. Trent effortlessly got into the medical copter. Jenks darted out just before the door closed, whipped downward and out as if he were on a roller coaster. He streaked past me, swearing at Tink, but I figured he was okay.
One hand supporting Ray, the other holding my hair, I watched the pilot do a check before lifting up. Squinting, I held my ground as more sticks and leaves blew. Blades thumping, the copter gained altitude and vanished beyond the trees, heading for Cincinnati.
Slowly the leaves settled. Shaking, I looked to where we had found Quen. The grass was flattened. Ray’s grip on my hair tugged, and I disentangled her, letting her soft, damp hand hold my fingers as I listened to the quiet, my ears ringing.
Jenks’s wings sounded muffled as he started to land on my shoulder, then thought better of it and hung where he was, dust sifting from him in the leftover breeze. “He’ll be okay. We got to him in time.”
I didn’t know. But I had an unusually quiet toddler on my hip and no horse. Tulpa had vanished. I didn’t blame the animal, but I needed to get back to the stables. I heard the hounds bay in the distance and shivered.
“Quen is strong,” Jenks said, his words fast as he fell into place beside me as I picked my way through the shattered vegetation. One of the trees I’d taken out had been damaged by magic, all evidence of it destroyed. The I.S. would have a cow. Either that, or blame me for the attack.
“He’s going to be okay,” Jenks said again, and I walked into the shade on the path. Hoofprints were a sad reminder of how fast life could change, the marks going both ways and crisscrossing in a chaotic mishmash.
“He’ll be okay,” I agreed just to get him to stop talking, but I didn’t know if I believed it.
Ray was still silent, leaning away from me to try to see Jenks flying over my head. I hadn’t spent a lot of time with her, but enough that I was familiar. She was so different from her sister, quiet and reserved where Lucy was outgoing and demanding. My face twisted and my gut clenched at the thought of Lucy with Ku’Sox. I had told Trent everything was going to be okay, but the uncertainty as we waited for what Ku’Sox wanted was heartbreaking.
From above my ear, Jenks made an ultrasonic chirp. “Holy toad spit!” the pixy squeaked, and I stiffened, feeling as if something was crawling through me by way of the ley line. Ray, too, stiffened, her hand in my fingers clenching harder.
Then I sucked in my breath as I felt a huge tug from the nearest ley line. It felt like a sudden drop in the road you weren’t expecting—a quick jolt and then back to normal. “What was that?” I said. The back of my head was hot, and I made a face as if trying to pop my ears.
“How should I know?” Jenks shrilled. “Listen, it’s going to do it again. Oh God, here it comes!”
I froze, my feet planted on the path as the line hiccuped and became nauseatingly erratic. Hissing, I dropped the line from my thoughts as it raked through me. Silver-edged dust fell from Jenks so thickly that Ray reached for it. The memory of that itchy feeling scraped up my spine and lodged itself in my brain. Glancing at Jenks, I tentatively tapped a ley line, squinting as I let it flow through me,
Trent spun to me. His face was riven with a worry he was trying to hide with a cool efficiency. It all fell apart when he looked at Ray, then me and whispered, “Rachel . . .”
I couldn’t hear him, but I could read his lips. Something in me twisted, and I shoved it aside. “Go!” I said, propelling him toward the door as the wind whipped my hair around. “I’ve got this! Call me when you know something!”
He kissed Ray’s fingers, looking her firmly in her eyes. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” His eyes rose to mine as the blades shrieked in the air. “Thank you.”
I held Ray closer, letting her see as we backed away. Trent effortlessly got into the medical copter. Jenks darted out just before the door closed, whipped downward and out as if he were on a roller coaster. He streaked past me, swearing at Tink, but I figured he was okay.
One hand supporting Ray, the other holding my hair, I watched the pilot do a check before lifting up. Squinting, I held my ground as more sticks and leaves blew. Blades thumping, the copter gained altitude and vanished beyond the trees, heading for Cincinnati.
Slowly the leaves settled. Shaking, I looked to where we had found Quen. The grass was flattened. Ray’s grip on my hair tugged, and I disentangled her, letting her soft, damp hand hold my fingers as I listened to the quiet, my ears ringing.
Jenks’s wings sounded muffled as he started to land on my shoulder, then thought better of it and hung where he was, dust sifting from him in the leftover breeze. “He’ll be okay. We got to him in time.”
I didn’t know. But I had an unusually quiet toddler on my hip and no horse. Tulpa had vanished. I didn’t blame the animal, but I needed to get back to the stables. I heard the hounds bay in the distance and shivered.
“Quen is strong,” Jenks said, his words fast as he fell into place beside me as I picked my way through the shattered vegetation. One of the trees I’d taken out had been damaged by magic, all evidence of it destroyed. The I.S. would have a cow. Either that, or blame me for the attack.
“He’s going to be okay,” Jenks said again, and I walked into the shade on the path. Hoofprints were a sad reminder of how fast life could change, the marks going both ways and crisscrossing in a chaotic mishmash.
“He’ll be okay,” I agreed just to get him to stop talking, but I didn’t know if I believed it.
Ray was still silent, leaning away from me to try to see Jenks flying over my head. I hadn’t spent a lot of time with her, but enough that I was familiar. She was so different from her sister, quiet and reserved where Lucy was outgoing and demanding. My face twisted and my gut clenched at the thought of Lucy with Ku’Sox. I had told Trent everything was going to be okay, but the uncertainty as we waited for what Ku’Sox wanted was heartbreaking.
From above my ear, Jenks made an ultrasonic chirp. “Holy toad spit!” the pixy squeaked, and I stiffened, feeling as if something was crawling through me by way of the ley line. Ray, too, stiffened, her hand in my fingers clenching harder.
Then I sucked in my breath as I felt a huge tug from the nearest ley line. It felt like a sudden drop in the road you weren’t expecting—a quick jolt and then back to normal. “What was that?” I said. The back of my head was hot, and I made a face as if trying to pop my ears.
“How should I know?” Jenks shrilled. “Listen, it’s going to do it again. Oh God, here it comes!”
I froze, my feet planted on the path as the line hiccuped and became nauseatingly erratic. Hissing, I dropped the line from my thoughts as it raked through me. Silver-edged dust fell from Jenks so thickly that Ray reached for it. The memory of that itchy feeling scraped up my spine and lodged itself in my brain. Glancing at Jenks, I tentatively tapped a ley line, squinting as I let it flow through me,
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