Prescott slowly steps into the room. “The guards, uh, told me about your situation.”
Mr. Neat is freaking out about the tampon-thing. Nice. I make a great point of wincing.
“Whatever they said, they didn’t do it justice.”
“You know what? We can have our conversation later. I know you have…Things to do. You realize your error at breakfast, correct?”
“Absolutely.” Not.
“Excellent. Don’t let it happen again.” He opens the door wide. I see my chance and take it. Without so much as a goodbye, I hightail it out of Prescott’s office. The door shuts behind me with another slam. Frustrated mumbles sound from behind the closed door. I can just imagine Prescott talking to himself while he pulls out his wipes and sanitizer, ready to go to town on every surface I may have come in contact with.
Cool. That’ll keep him busy for a while.
For my part, I now have gym class with Lincoln. Although I did grab the sheets from Prescott’s book, I can’t celebrate too much. After all, my big goal was to find that codex, and I came up empty. Even worse, today is Friday. If we don’t find the codex today, then Lincoln and I can go to jail.
I stomp across the grass. Hells bells. I was so sure that the codex was in his office. It’s beyond maddening. Both the codex and the coin are definitely on this island, but we haven’t found either one yet. And worst of all, the Earl of Acca has something special planned for our wedding, according to the Acca warriors from last night. In Aldred-speak, that means trouble.
A small wooden sign has been tacked to one of the trees. It reads “Practice Field” and has an arrow that points toward a path through the forest. I take off at a run.
Chapter Nineteen
I race through the forest. The path that I follow is all gnarly roots and jutting rocks. Random tree branches loom over the trail. A few almost whack me in the face.
Important point: I’ve seen enough Earth-made TV shows to know that, in this situation, most human females would trip on a rock, fall on their ass, and lay there like a lump. Makes no sense. Time was, I thought it might be some phenomenon about woods on Earth. Enchanted anti-feminine rocks, maybe? But now that I’m here, I find that it’s super-easy to run along without falling. Not sure what’s up with that.
Something to ponder. You know, when I don’t have to haul ass to find a magical codex and Lucifer’s coin to keep me and my fiancé out of jail and the world from ending.
So, you know, much later.
The trees open up to a large round swath of flat grassland. About twenty girls march around the periphery in three neat rows, military style. They’re all wearing these weird one-piece zip-front jumpsuits. It’s surreal.
Lincoln notices me the moment I step onto the green. Unlike the students, he’s still wearing his low-slung khakis and blue blazer. Somehow, he makes it look good. “Mysteria Cross. You’re late.”
My first reaction is to tell him to bite me. I’m able to control my sass, for once. “Yes, Mr. Prince. I’ll be right there.” My tail, however, flips him a modified hand gesture over my shoulder. I love that thing.
Lincoln’s glance goes to my tail. None of the humans can see my demonic side. Of course, Lincoln catches it right away. His full mouth tips up into a subtle smile. He knows he still got sassed and he thinks it’s awesome. One of the many reasons why I love the guy.
I pause before him. “Sorry I’m late. I ran through the forest, fell, and lay there for a while.” I figure if any humans are eavesdropping, this will seem like a very plausible scenario.
“Don’t let it happen again.”
“No problem.” I never let it happen the first time. The other students march by us in formation. “Is this all we do? March around in circles?”
“Pretty much. The class hasn’t been taught anything more useful yet. Walking about is supposed to be good exercise. Plus, they’re all stuck on the far side of the green, so we have a few minutes to chat.” He tilts his head. “Any luck with Prescott’s office?”
“Not with the codex.” I reach into my pocket and pull out the parchment. “I did find this, though.”
Lincoln takes the sheets from me and scans them. “Prescott highlighted these passages?”
“Yes. He put little Post-its on these pages. What do they say?”
“They’re about protectors.” He looks over the next sheet. “This one tells the story of Cryptan. It’s how he volunteered to become the protector of the thrax Vault. It happened thousands of years ago.” He sighs. “At least he lived a long life.”
My heart lurches, thinking about our lost friend. I shake my head. Now is not the time to focus on Cryptan’s death. “So it talks about Cryptan. Anyone else?”
“It mentions the protector who volunteered to look after Lucifer’s coin.” He flips the sheets over. “Other than saying that the protector is a man and that he exists, it’s a little thin on details.”
“How old is that text?”
“At least two thousand years.”