Scout let out a string of curses, then fumbled out of bed. And I do mean fumbled—she got caught in the mix of blankets and comforters, and ended up on the floor, half-trapped in quilts, before she managed to stand up and pluck the house from the bookshelf.
“Oh, crap,” she intoned, lifting up the house to eye level so that she could peer into it. When she looked back at me, forehead pinched, I knew we were in trouble. “That’s my alarm. My ward got tripped.”
11
I stood up and walked toward her. “What does that mean, ‘My ward got tripped’?”
Scout closed her eyes, then pursed her lips and blew into the house’s tiny window. By the time she opened her eyes, the house was silent and dark again, as if its tiny residents had gone back to sleep.
She put it carefully back on its shelf, then looked at me. “Daniel’s been teaching me how to ward the basement doors—it’s supposed to keep the nasties out or send out an alarm if they make it through. You know, since they kidnapped me and all.”
“I do recall that,” I agreed supportively—and wondered if that was what she’d been working on in her room.
“This house was keyed to the vault door in the basement—the big metal one with the locks and stuff?”
“So the house is, what, some kind of alarm?”
She nodded, then grabbed a pair of jeans from her closet. “Pretty much. Now, go get dressed. We’re going to have to handle this.”
My stomach knotted, nerves beginning to build. “What do you think it is?”
She blew out a breath. “I don’t know. But I’m guessing it’s not going to be pretty.”
Unfortunately, I guessed she was right.
We’d both pulled on jeans, shirts, and sneakers to make our way downstairs. We’d decided we didn’t want to be captured by Reapers or rescued by Adepts—or worse—in silly pajamas. The school was quiet as we moved through the hallways, probably not a surprise since it was nearly two o’clock in the morning. On the other hand, I half expected M.K. to jump out from behind a corner. I figured her being out on some secret rendezvous was only slightly less likely than the possibility that we’d soon be staring down half a dozen creeping monsters.
We made it through the Great Hall and labyrinth room, then through the door that led to the stairs. We stayed quiet until we’d made our way into the locked corridor that led down, after two staircases and a handful of hallways, into the basement. I’d taken this route before—the first time I’d followed Scout on one of her midnight rambles, actually. And we all knew how that had ultimately turned out.
“Do we have a plan of action here?” I quietly asked, tiptoeing behind Scout.
She adjusted the strap of her messenger bag. “If I’m as good as I think I am, we don’t need one.”
“Because your ward worked.”
“Not exactly. This was only my first time warding, so I’m not expecting much. But I also worked a little magic of my own. And if that works—I am officially da bomb.”
“Wow. You really went there.”
“I totally did.”
“What kind of magic did you work?”
“Well, turns out, Daniel’s a protector.”
“You are seriously stalking him, aren’t you?”
“Ha. You’d be amazed what you can find on the Internet. Anyway, a protector is a guardian angel type. His magic’s all about protecting breaches. But his magic works more like an alarm. I like to be a little more walk and a little less talk. A little less conversation and a little more action.”
I guessed her endgame. “You booby-trapped it, didn’t you?”
“Little bit,” she said, then stopped short. She glanced back at me and put a finger to her lips as we neared the final corridor. “I’ll go first,” she whispered. “You follow and firespell me if my hex didn’t work.”
I nodded. “Good luck.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” she said, and we moved.
The door was nearly twice as tall as I was. The entire thing was edged in rivets, and a huge flywheel took up most of the middle of the door, as did a giant steel bar.
But the bar and the flywheel and the fact that the door itself weighed a ton hadn’t stopped the two girls who lay on the floor in front of it, arms and legs pinned to their sides, rolling around on the floor.
I couldn’t stop my mouth from dropping open. “What the—”
“Oh, nice,” Scout smugly said. She walked into the corridor, hands on her hips, and surveyed the damage. One of the girls wore a green-and-gold cheerleading uniform, her wavy, dark blond hair spilling out on the floor as she rolled around, trying to unglue her arms and legs. The second girl was curvier and wore an oversized dark T-shirt and jeans over big, clunky shoes. She was pale, and there were dark circles under her eyes.
Realizing they weren’t alone, the Reapers took the opportunity to blister our ears with insults. Scout rolled her eyes. “Hey, this is a convent, Reapers. Watch your language.”
“Unmake this spell, Millicent Green,” spat out the cheerleader, half sitting up to get a look at us. “Right now.”
“You couldn’t pay me enough to unmake it, Lauren Fleming.” There was equal venom in Scout’s voice. Obviously, she and Lauren were acquainted. “What are you doing in our territory?”
The second girl lifted her head from the floor. “What do you think we’re doing here, genius?”
“Being completely and totally hexbound would be my first guess. Lily?”
Technically, I had no idea what “hexbound” was, but Scout had said she’d done a hex, and these two girls seemed like they were tied up with some kind of invisible magic, so I made an educated guess. “Certainly looks that way. How do you two know each other?”
“Millicent remembers the agony of defeat,” the second girl put in.
Scout’s lip curled. “There was no defeat. I forfeited the game because Lauren locked me in the green room.”
“Like that mattered. You would have lost anyway. I’d been training for six weeks straight.”
“Because your mom was your coach.”
“At least my mom was in the state at the time.”
The room went silent, and my gaze darted back and forth between the two of them. I was waiting for Scout to growl or hiss or reach out to rake her nails across Lauren’s face.
“So, what game?” I asked. “Basketball or softball or . . . ?”