THE SHADOWS through the windows are long by the time I jerk awake. I’m still shaking from Raffe’s experience. I didn’t just know what he was thinking; I actually felt what he felt, thought what he thought.
Was the sword really that close to Raffe? Maybe only in extremely intense times. The whole experience was bizarrely freaky at every level.
I run my trembling hand over the warm blade, telling my body that it’s okay.
I’m starting to put some pieces together. Some of Raffe’s actions make more sense now.
He couldn’t jump in to help me during my public fights at the last Resistance camp without rumors spreading about us. The hellions always tracked him down eventually, and it was probably a combination of luck, tracking, and listening to human gossip. A story about a fight like that would definitely be talked about. He bet against me to announce to everyone that we weren’t friends, that he didn’t care what happened to me.
And he hunted down the low demons in the forest even after they ran because they seemed like they came from hell, didn’t they? If any of them lived to tell about how he’d come to the rescue of a Daughter of Man, it’d just be a matter of time before they got to me.
But did he have to go as far as telling me he didn’t even like me after our kiss? That was totally unnecessary, in my opinion.
The kiss.
Like a germinating seed, I have the growing impulse to ask the sword about it.
It’s silly and embarrassing and maybe even shallow after what I just saw Raffe go through. But because of what I just saw, I want to see him in a different kind of moment. One where he’s cocky and in control. One where he’s experiencing something other than threats and pain, if only for two seconds.
That, and I’m dying to know what he felt during our kiss.
I know it doesn’t matter. I know it won’t change anything. I know it’s juvenile.
Whatever.
Can’t a girl be a girl for, like, five minutes?
“Show me your memories of the kiss.” I close my eyes. The heat creeps up my cheeks, which is silly because the sword was there when the kiss happened and saw the whole thing. So what if I’m curious about what he felt?
“Oh, come on. Do we have to do this again?”
Nothing.
“That last one was totally awful. I need a little comfort. It’s just a small favor. Please?”
Nothing.
“Extra ribbons and bows for you,” I try to sound like I mean it. “Maybe even sparkly makeup on the teddy bear.”
Still nothing.
“Traitor.” I know that’s a funny statement since the sword is actually being loyal to Raffe but I don’t care.
I slide it back into its scabbard, which has been leaning against my chair, and jam the bear over the hilt.
I slip the strap over my shoulder and step outside to see if I can find Mom and Paige.
The hallway is still crowded, as usual. Two identical guys with blond hair are weaving through the tight space, saying hello to a bunch of people as they walk by. It seems like everyone likes them. It takes me a second to realize that it’s Dee and Dum. Their hair is now sandy blond.
Dee discretely shows Dum something in his palm, and Dum almost crosses his eyes trying to hold in a laugh. I’m guessing Dee just pickpocketed someone for something the owner has probably already told them they can’t have.
They wave to me and I wait for them.
“What happened to your hair?” I ask.
“We’re spy masters, remember?” says Dee.
“As in masters of disguise,” says Dum.
“Well,” says Dee rubbing dye off the edge of his hairline, “ ‘master’ is kind of a strong word.”
“So is ‘disguise,’ ” I say with a half grin.
“Dude, you look great,” says Dum to Dee. “Handsome as ever.”
“What did you pickpocket?” I keep my voice down in case the owner doesn’t have a sense of humor.
“Ooh, you’re losing your touch, Bro. She saw.” Dum looks around to see if anyone is listening.
“No way. My touch is like butter.” Dee opens his now empty palms and wiggles his fingers. “She’s just smart, that’s all. She can figure things out.”
“Yeah, and that’s why we feel so bad about only thinking of you as a candidate for fights, Penryn. Speaking of which, how do you feel about wearing a nun’s habit?”
“Better yet, hot librarian glasses.” Dee nods at me like he’s giving me a tip. “Turns out we have both librarians and nuns here.”
“Does it get any better than that?” Dum’s eyes are wide with wonder.
They look at each other and simultaneously call out, “Librarian mud fights!” They shake their hands in the air like excited little boys.
Everyone in the hallway looks over at us.
“See? Look at the interest,” says Dee.
But then the hallway clears as people pour out through the door. Something is happening.
“What’s going on?” I ask someone as he peers outside.
“No idea,” he says. He looks scared but excited. “Just following the crowd to see what’s happening. You too, huh?”
A woman brushes past us. “Someone’s been found dead or mangled or something.” She pushes through the doors, letting cold air in.
Dead or mangled.
I follow her.
Outside, a small crowd full of tension hovers on the walkway in front of the main building. The sun may be low on the horizon but the overcast sky simply drains the color, painting everyone shades of gray.
People look across El Camino. On the other side is the fenced grove where I chased the squirrel. During the day it’s beautiful and peaceful, with the trees spaced far enough apart to give the area dappled shade without darkness. But as the light dims, the grove starts looking sinister and foreboding.
A few people run straight from the building to the grove, while others hesitate before walking there. Still others linger in hopes of safety near the building, while squinting to see what’s going on in the shadows beneath the trees.
I pause to take in the situation, then join those who are running to the grove. I can’t help but wonder what draws them there in the dimming light. Snatches of conversation along the way clue me in.
I’m not the only one who worries about someone they love. Lots of people got separated during the chaos of the angel invasion or the aerie attack. Now they’re frantically worried that whoever is left in their family might have been hurt or killed. Others are just more curious than smart, emboldened by being part of an organization full of people with purpose, something they thought might never happen again.
In any case, there are enough of us to create a logjam at the fence. It’s a metal-framed wire fence that’s chest high to me and requires actual climbing. Since the fence borders the grove for several blocks in either direction, there’s no choice but to scale it.
Under the trees, a small crowd gathers. I can feel their restlessness and hear the tension in their voices. A sense of urgency shoots through me. Something is seriously wrong here and I’m convinced it has something to do with my family.
I race to the crowd, shoving my way in.
What I see is something I won’t be able to blot out of my mind for as long as I live.