As Adrian had predicted, the guardians searched the car thoroughly, and I heard one of them whisper to the other, “Make sure there are no stowaways.”
My anxiety rose, and I found myself experiencing the strange sensation of whipping my tail back and forth.
A dhampir face appeared before me, and he made some clicking sounds. “Hey, kitty, kitty.”
I made no response, afraid it might come out as a hiss.
The guardians finally cleared us, and like that, we were on the road, free of the place that had been both a sanctuary and prison for the last month. Ms. Terwilliger drove us another half hour to put distance between us and Court, and then pulled the car off on the shoulder of a rural highway. Once parked, she opened up the carrier so that I could come out onto the backseat, and she set a pile of clothes beside me. Beyond her, I could barely discern the sky lightening.
“There you go,” she said, moving back to the front seat. “I should probably have told you before . . . it’s a lot easier going into this spell than it is coming out of it.”
MINUTES FELT LIKE HOURS AFTER SYDNEY’S DEPARTURE. I paced the length of our small suite, a knot in my chest, as I braced myself for the worst. Any second now, I feared, I would get word that the plan had gone awry and guardians had intercepted Sydney trying to escape Court.
“Darling, must you do that?” my mother asked at last. “You’re agitating the animals.”
I paused and glanced down to where Mr. Bojangles was keeping a wary eye on Hopper—the small, enchanted dragon that Sydney had summoned earlier this year. Hopper had become a pet of sorts and was regarding the cat with an excitement that clearly wasn’t reciprocated.
“I don’t think it’s me, Mom. They’re just—”
A chime from my phone interrupted me, and I dove for it, startling both cat and dragon. On my phone’s display, a text message from Eddie was clear and succinct: Made it out of Court. All is well.
I texted back: Am I still married to a cat?
Yes, came the response, followed a moment later by: But Ms. T swears it’s temporary.
Some of my anxiety lessened, but not all. I wrote: Let me know when she’s back.
Twenty minutes later, a new message came in, this one from Sydney herself: Back in human form. Everything seems to be normal.
Everything? I questioned.
Well, aside from a weird urge to chase laser pointers, she responded.
If that’s the worst effect, I’ll take it. Keep me posted. I love you.
I meow you too, she wrote back. It was promptly corrected with: I mean, I love you.
I smiled as I put the phone away but found I was still a long way from feeling as though all was right in the world. I couldn’t shake the feeling that things weren’t entirely settled between Sydney and me, and that wasn’t even taking into consideration the physical threats she now faced. She’d made it outside of Court . . . but was now potentially facing all the same dangers that had driven us to seek sanctuary here.
Only if they know she’s out, Aunt Tatiana’s voice reminded me, in a rare moment of legitimate helpfulness. As long as no one’s looking for her—and she doesn’t get discovered—she’ll be safe. So don’t blow it.
Right, I agreed. And no one will have any reason to think she’s not here. She never leaves our suite, and we don’t really have that many visitors.
Later that day, of course, we had a visitor.
Thankfully, it wasn’t a regiment of guardians demanding to know Sydney’s whereabouts. Instead, I found Sonya Karp Tanner standing outside our door, smiling when she saw me. Whatever relief I found at seeing her was quashed by an anxious Aunt Tatiana.
Don’t let your guard down at any cost! she hissed.
Sonya’s our friend, I silently replied.
Aunt Tatiana disagreed. It doesn’t matter. No one can know Sydney’s gone, no matter how friendly you think they are. All it takes is one little slip, no matter how good the intention. The fewer the people who know a secret, the better.
With a pang, I realized she was right. Meanwhile, Sonya’s congenial expression had turned puzzled as I conducted my mental conversation with a phantom.
“Are you okay, Adrian?” asked Sonya.
“Fine, fine,” I said, beckoning her in. “Just tired. I had kind of a rough morning.” I gestured vaguely at my face, which still bore the signs of scuffling with Wesley and his crew.
As I’d hoped, Sonya was effectively deflected. Concern lit her features. “What happened?”
“Oh, the usual. Just some idiots jealous of me being married to the hottest human around.”
“Where is she?” asked Sonya, glancing around the empty suite. “And your mother?”
“Mom went to bed,” I replied. “And Sydney . . . she’s out for a walk.”