She glanced at the students behind her, mentally tallying the numbers. Math had never been her favorite subject, and yet a word problem popped into her head as though she were reading it from a book. Fiona’s junior class included ninety-six students. Of those, twelve were slaughtered by an evil sorcerer’s army, and twenty-four are receiving treatment for injuries. Of the remaining mobile students, fifty-one will return home to the safety of their parents in other states. How many local schoolmates have been left displaced because either their homes are still under threat from the Harvesters, or their parents are out of the country?
She counted eight students around her, slumped in a van that smelled of sweat. Only Tobias was missing.
Munroe leaned forward in the front passenger seat, trying to get a better view out the windshield. She had arranged for this handful of uprooted students to stay at her home in Virginia until Boston was free from the attacks. She seemed to take an irritating pride in her role as savior. She turned to face her schoolmates, her pale skin shining against her deep auburn hair. “Don’t worry, everyone. We’ll be out of here soon.”
In the driver’s seat, a driver hired by Munroe’s parents scratched his gray hair, staring out the window. A blotch of sweat had spread up the back of his white T-shirt.
“So, are we still waiting for permission to exit the perimeter?” Connor, a golden-curled boy, called out from the van’s back seat.
“They’d better give it soon,” grumbled the driver. “The Ranulfs are paying me generously, but not enough to fight terrorists.”
Munroe whipped her head around. “The police officer is supposed to give us the go-ahead. It wasn’t easy to get a clearance, you know.” She crossed her arms over her black blouse.
Fiona cleared her throat. “We have to wait for Tobias.” She’d never find him again if they left him here. Philosophers from the magical city of Maremount didn’t exactly carry cell phones.
Munroe narrowed her gray eyes. “I’m not waiting around for him. If he doesn’t want to take advantage of my family’s generosity in offering their home and resources, that’s his decision. He can find a way back to England when the airport reopens.”
England. Of course. Munroe still believed his lie about his origins.
Mariana inched forward in her seat, gripping Munroe’s arm. “Just give us a little while longer. It’s not safe for him here.”
Munroe crinkled her forehead in disbelief. “It’s not safe here for any of us. And don’t think I’ve forgotten that you two were friends with the Mather Witch. I’ll be watching you.” She pointed a manicured nail at Mariana’s nose.
Mariana swatted Munroe’s hand away. It was convenient for them that Celia was taking the fall as being the “Mather Witch.” She wasn’t here to protest.
Munroe edged closer, threatening to topple over the armrest. “My father is the head of the anti-witchcraft task force in Washington—”
Mariana stared at the ceiling. “Oh my God, we know. You’re very important.”
Munroe’s glossy pink lips tightened as she glared back and forth between Fiona and Mariana. “Look. You’re either with the witch-hunters, or you’re with the terrorists. It’s very important that we stick together in the fight against evil.” She shot Alan a sharp look. “It’s that simple. Got it?”
Alan yanked off his headphones. “Let’s not argue right now, since there could be Harvesters all around us at any minute. If these are my last ten minutes on earth, I’d like to spend them listening to Kraftwerk instead of listening to you all bickering.” He jammed the headphones back on his head.
The door slid open. A stocky, dark-haired man in a police uniform stared at them. Fiona’s throat tightened. Tobias was still missing.
The officer looked over the students, a clipboard in his hand. “Everyone on this van has been given clearance to exit the police perimeter at this time. Please stay safe.” With a quick nod of his head, he slammed the van door.
Munroe beamed. “I guess we’re ready.”
The driver turned the key in the ignition, and Fiona swallowed hard. The only thing stopping her from losing Tobias forever was the slow crawl of traffic blocking their exit.
Where the hell is he?
CHAPTER FOUR
Tobias
Two men stood in Jack’s empty living room. To Tobias’s right, a hulking man with a bulbous face and florid nose stared at the athame in Tobias’s invisible hand, seeming to float in midair. The man’s fleshy cheeks and jaded expression reminded him of an overfed king.
To Tobias’s left stood a thin man with a scraggly black beard, hunched over like a ragged heron. Each wore a pendant around his neck—a human-like face formed from branches and thorns. The men didn’t look particularly terrifying, but the pikes they carried could transmit several times the energy of his little athame. Still, Tobias had the advantage of invisibility and the agility of a lighter weapon.
As the pair lowered their pikes into a fighting stance, Tobias flicked the athame in a figure-eight pattern to charge it. His hair stood on end as the blade ignited the air with its aura.
The fat king swung his pike, and his companion followed suit. But before they could build momentum, a stream of orange light crackled out of Tobias’s blade, knocking the Harvesters to the floor, pikes clanging. Tobias lunged forward, just as the ragged heron leapt up with surprising speed.