Dammit, dammit, dammit. I wheel around and flatten myself against the door, my chest heaving as I gasp for breath.
Leo saunters up. “Indigo, it’s been far too long.” He smiles, but only half of his face moves. The sight is almost as unsettling as his predatory black eyes, the left one blinking far too frequently, flicking up and down my body.
I suddenly wish I hadn’t accepted Bishop’s offer to break for the night and take up training again after school today. Because as proud as I was of my skills yesterday, I somehow don’t think moving paper clips is going to help me in this situation.
“You know, I always thought you were pretty,” Leo says. “I came here to give you one last chance to break the spell on the Bible, but who’s to say I can’t have a little fun first?” He moves around the carriage, loosening his pin-striped tie. “Frederick never let me have any fun. Could waste half a day lecturing some dumb-shit teenager about a movie no one cares about, but the minute I try to have some fun, it’s all ‘we’re taking care of business.’ ” He gives a derisive snort. “But Frederick’s not around anymore, is he? Thanks to you.”
“B-Bishop’s protecting me,” I say. “He’ll be here any minute, any second.” I scuttle along the wall as he approaches.
Leo snickers. “And just where is he now, huh?”
Good question. I’d like to know the answer to that myself.
Leo unbuttons his shirt, loosened tie draped over his shoulder, revealing a sallow chest covered in sparse dark hair.
The sting of vomit burns my throat. I scan the room for an escape route. I spot the fire door at the rear of the gym. I’m willing to bet he hasn’t seen it—perfect. Except that I have to get there, past Leo, and all without him noticing so that he doesn’t lock it with his magic. I’m sure it won’t matter that I appear to be in better shape than him. Strong calves are probably not going to help against his magic.
Come on, Indie, think! Think, think, think. I do another quick scan of the room and stop at the first large object I spot—the carriage.
I’ve done it only once before, under the direction of a practiced warlock, but I try not to think about these little details. Instead I focus on the heat, will it to come, and it does without effort, tingling and stinging my fingertips. Like riding a bike.
But then I realize there’s a problem with this plan: I can’t say the incantation aloud, because this whole plan revolves around Leo not turning around for at least fifteen seconds, not guessing what I’m up to. I’ve never done a spell without saying the incantation, never even tried. Panic surges inside me.
Leo steps forward. He reaches his cold hand out and grazes my cheek with his fingers. I let out a little whimper, and he laughs.
“Don’t be shy, now,” he says. “I promise not to hurt you too badly.”
Sequere me imperio movere, sequere me imperio movere, sequere me imperio movere.
The front end of the carriage lifts up—oh my God, I did it!—so that it’s balanced on the back two wheels, hovering just inches from the floor, and I find myself strangely grateful that Leo’s too busy noisily unbuckling his belt to notice the slight groan of the metal. The upended float wobbles over the floor. It dips up and down as my magic wavers, and I have to bite down on my lip from the mental strain. When it’s a few feet behind Leo, I decide it’s close enough.
“Sorry I can’t promise the same thing,” I spit out.
I let the carriage crash to the ground. For a split second, it teeters on its back wheels like it can’t decide what to do, and I worry it might fall the wrong way. But then the carriage gains momentum and tips forward. I jump out of the way just as it crashes onto Leo’s back, flattening him to the ground with a crack that echoes through the room.
It worked!
But I’ve patted myself on the back too soon, because Leo’s already squirming under the carriage, his low growl turning into a thundering roar. I give him a wide berth and make a mad dash for the fire door, but when I pass Carmen lying in a bloodied heap on the football team’s float, my breath knocks out of me. I can’t leave her here.
“Carmen!” I rush to her side and try to haul her up, but she’s all dead weight. When I hear rustling behind me I have to give up. “I’m so sorry, Coach Jenkins.”
I lay her down gently, then run. The door is unlocked—thank God!—and I burst onto the fresh-mown lawn of the football field, so thick with fog it feels as though I’m running into a scene from a slasher flick starring me as Lucky Victim #2.
Every second counts, but I can’t help glancing behind me. Leo’s already at the door, hands braced against the frame. Blood gushes from his nose as he huffs through clenched teeth.
But he doesn’t follow.
And I don’t get it.