“Thanks.”
He sighed. “But I need you to help me find Alex. You know she’d risk anything for you without even thinking.” He grunted. “Though the not-thinking part is always kind of worrisome.” He offered me a tentative smile laced with all the complexity of the last few minutes. “Please?”
He was right again—Alex would dive into hell to save me. What kind of crappy friend was I if I wasn’t willing to risk the same for her? “Okay. I’m going to try this.”
He withdrew to sit on the bed again, and the only sound in the room was my own heartbeat thundering in my ears. I closed my eyes and inhaled, picking up the very faint whiff of venemon magic in the room. In the next moment, my own magic rushed forward and overtook it. My nose stung with it, and when I opened my eyes, sapphire ribbons danced before me, awaiting my command. Fighting the urge to cough or try to contain it, I clutched harder to the teddy bear. I pictured the Medici house, the driveway, the woods around it, and flung my magic outward. The ribbons pulled taut, stretching beyond the house, reaching for Alex.
When the tug came, I gasped. “Oh my God.”
The bed squeaked as Crowe stood. “What is it? Did you find her?” He seemed a little breathless, anxious, hopeful. But most of all scared.
I smiled as I felt another vague pull at the thin thread of my magic—the essence of Alex fizzed faintly along the connection, shimmering gold. “I think I did.”
ELEVEN
CROWE DROVE MY CAR WHILE I GAVE DIRECTIONS WITH my eyes closed, still focusing on the magic, on the weak, unsteady tug at the line I’d cast. I was terrified of losing my grip on it. My fingers were clutched around the teddy bear and the edge of my seat, and my lungs burned with a minty sting, but Crowe had been right—I was getting used to it. I could stand it, and taking this risk was worth the look on his face and the relief in his voice.
“To our left,” I muttered, and felt Crowe turn a moment later.
“We’re headed back to the festival grounds,” he said after a while.
I cracked one eye open. “The pull is still really weak. It’s like having bad reception on a phone. I’m sorry. I’m not that good at this.”
“Bullshit,” he said. “You’re doing just fine.”
I went back to focusing on Alex, on the fleeting pull of her, but the more time passed, the more frustrating it got. “It’s like she’s fading in and out.”
“We’re here,” he said. I opened my eyes again to see that he was backing into his spot in the hidden driveway near the festival grounds. “Can you keep it going here?”
I glanced up the path toward the distant domes of tents, where I could already see the heavy haze of magic blocking out my view of the midday sky beyond it. Most groups were probably tucked away in their family or club tents for lunch or to escape the heat, so the grounds probably wouldn’t be crowded, and when I opened the car door the scents were strong but not overwhelming. “I’ll try.”
We got out of the car, and Crowe tossed me my keys. I hooked the ring around my middle finger, the metal clacking together as I fidgeted.
Crowe came around and met me at the passenger-side door. He grabbed my free hand, lacing our fingers together. “If you want to close your eyes and focus again, I’ll make sure you don’t fall.”
Too late, my thoughts responded as I felt the warm press of his palm against mine. “Um. Okay.” I bit my lip and let my eyes fall shut. His grip on my hand tightened. “To the right.”
Pine needles crunched softly beneath our feet as we walked forward. Crowe was silent, but I could feel his tension, his hope, his fear. I could tell there were a million questions he wanted to ask, but that he was afraid of pulling my focus from Alex.
I was afraid of the same thing. One moment I could feel her pull and see the faint amber glow of her in my mind’s eye, and the next I was plunged into a numbing darkness. My stomach would drop with dread until she flickered back. I didn’t really know what a locator spell was supposed to feel like and could only hope I was doing it right. My embarrassment at my lack of skill kept fraying my concentration.
“To the right,” I murmured. “Wait, no.” I opened my eyes as she disappeared from my magical radar again. “Shit.” I looked around. We had skirted the main festival grounds and were at the far northwestern end of the clearing, beyond which were dense woods.
We were near the Deathstalker tent. Crowe was glaring at their scorpion flag as if he’d like to set fire to it. “Is that where you were leading us?” he asked.
“I… don’t know,” I said. “I just lost her again.” I took in our direction, the place I’d been heading before my sense of her had vanished. “We were heading away from their tent.”
“But you said the signal was weak, right? And that you haven’t done a locator spell before.” He was still staring daggers at their tent. “You got us pretty damn close.”
“Let me try to find her again.” My magic wreathed around me like a blue ribbon, and my nose became full of the stinging scent of my own power. With her teddy bear clutched under my other arm, fingers digging into its plush body, I focused on my best friend.
And found nothing.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
Crowe whipped around, releasing my hand. I staggered a little and turned. Six Deathstalkers were coming toward us, the long grass parting to form a path for them. The smell of terra magic reached me a second later, and I could see the telltale pink haze of it coming from a guy with broad shoulders and a scorpion tattoo on his chest, visible as his leather vest gaped open. “He’s probably a Stoneking,” I whispered, nodding toward the guy.
Crowe gave me a sidelong glance and nodded, his hair blowing in the breeze the Deathstalker had conjured. “We’re looking for my sister,” he said to the group as they came to a stop at the edge of the woods, about twenty feet from where we stood.
They fanned out quickly, hemming us in. Crowe put up his hands—which were completely steady. “If you’ve got her,” he continued in a low voice, “the best thing to do is to let her go.”
“Yeah?” said a Deathstalker with full-sleeve tattoos and a scar across her forehead. “How about you give up our prospect first?” This one was emanating faint wisps of crimson—animus magic, like Killian’s.
“She might be trying to influence you,” I murmured to Crowe, whose eyes narrowed.
“We don’t have your prospect,” Crowe said to the woman. “But I’d like to know where he is, too. He was the last one seen with my sister.”
“Uh-huh,” said a third. He had buzzed black hair and a long beard. Glimmers of sapphire hung in the air around him. He had the same magic I had, but either he was holding it close or he didn’t have nearly as much as my dad.
“Locant,” I whispered.
Crowe gave me another look, this time with an arched eyebrow, before returning his focus to our current predicament. “Where’s Killian, Ren?”
“None of your fucking business,” said a fourth Deathstalker, the one apparently named Ren. She had dreads pulled back in a red bandanna and intense pale green eyes that contrasted with her dark skin. “And we’re gonna have to ask you to clear out now. We’re having a meeting.”
“Without your president?” Crowe asked. His fingers, still held up to show he meant no harm, twitched. A faint amber glow, one I knew only I could see, flared off his fingertips.
“Get back to your clubhouse, Crowe,” said the bearded guy, cracking his knuckles.
“I want my sister. If Killian has her somewhere on these grounds, I’m going to find her. And if she’s hurt, I’m going to have to find some way to work out my extreme disappointment.” His fingers curled, and shimmering, undulating threads of venemon began to stretch from their source.