When I scan the length of the dragon’s body, I find that the rest of it is as lifeless as any arts and crafts project should be. But I know it’s only a matter of time before the whole thing roars to life along with its tail, prepared to rip me—and anyone standing in its path to me—to shreds.
Panic sucks all the air out of my lungs, and I forget what I’m supposed to do next. I’m only vaguely aware of what’s going on around me. Mrs. Malone speaks into the microphone and people stare at me frozen onstage, but all I can think is that Bishop’s abandoned me. He saw me kiss Devon and was so pissed that he took off, leaving me to die at the hands of the Priory. But then the fire alarm sounds, and I remember I was supposed to run at the first sign of the sorcerers, run far and fast so that none of the students get stuck in the battle zone, and when we were clear, Bishop and Jezebel would attack. Bishop must have activated the alarm when he realized I’d panicked and not come through on my end of the plan.
Devon tugs my arm, trying to lead me offstage as Mrs. Malone attempts to reassure the confused crowd.
“Calm down, students. I’m sure this is just an error and that we can resume the evening shortly, but until the fire department arrives and we can ensure your safety, I’ll have to ask that you all file into the parking lot.”
Students grumble and groan, collecting their purses and jackets from the tables. Some even line up outside the bathroom.
When I dart a glance back at the dragon, it blinks—a heavy-lidded blink—as though waking from a deep sleep.
I snatch the microphone from Mrs. Malone. “Come on, people, get outside! There’s a fire in the kitchen! You’re all going to die!”
Hysteria races through the crowd. Students cram into the doorways as though sucked there by a vacuum, and our principal flies offstage, running around like a headless chicken, trying to rein in the chaos. So, overall, much more effective than Mrs. Malone’s announcement.
“What are you talking about?” Devon asks. He’s been with me onstage and knows that I haven’t been near the kitchen. “Let’s get out of here,” he says.
I shake free of his grip. “You go ahead.”
His eyebrows draw together, and he glances back anxiously at his friends’ retreating backs. “Everyone’s probably leaving for the party,” he says, actual pain in his voice that he’s not part of everyone.
“Go ahead. I’m not feeling well.” I give him a not-so-little shove toward the stairs. He stumbles back, with the most affronted look on his face. A low, throaty rumble sounds from behind him. Devon spins around just as the dragon’s twenty-foot-long, papier-mâché body morphs into the scaly green skin of a lizard, its massive batlike wings expanding with a whisk of air from either side of its muscular shoulders. High-pitched screams erupt from the clog of people in the doorway.
“Holy shit!” Devon scrambles down the stairs, plastering himself against the wall as he passes the beast without so much as a backward glance at me.
Of course I wanted him to leave so he wasn’t killed. But still. What a gentleman!
I root my feet to the stage, fighting the intense urge to flee along with everyone else. I have to remind myself that the point was to lure the Priory out, that Leo won’t kill me until I’ve broken the spell; the dragon is just a scare tactic. But that’s really, really hard to do when china shatters as the dragon climbs to its feet, bones cracking as it extends its long, curved neck to full length. The animal yawns, revealing two rows of serrated, sawlike teeth and a thin red serpentine tongue.
Why, oh why, couldn’t this year’s homecoming theme be Care Bears?
I stumble backward.
“Indigo, what are you doing?” Mrs. Malone pokes her head in the door. “Come on out here, it’s … dangerous.” She spots the dragon, and her eyes go wide. She lets out a bloodcurdling scream and stumbles from the room.
The dragon sniffs the air, then snaps its head toward me so fast I shriek. Bishop? Jezebel? The Family? Any time now, don’t be shy. I know we agreed you’d all stay back until Leo shows his face, but I think a dragon is a good time to intervene too.
The dragon takes a huge breath that puffs up its chest, then exhales, blowing snapping flames across the room, so close to my face that my cheeks sting as though I’ve just come inside from the cold. I flatten myself against the wall so that I’m not burned. Just when it feels like my face is melting off, the fire finally, mercifully, sucks back into its mouth. But the dragon’s not done with me yet.
It takes one step closer to me, rumbling the earth, talons-for-nails clacking against the parquet flooring. Its mouth opens again, and it doesn’t take the third-highest GPA at Fairfield High to know what’s going to happen next, what’s going to happen if I don’t get out of here.
A familiar heat burns up my chest, and I slam it down hard and fast. I’m not even sure what’s happened until I’m ten feet in the air, looking down at the dragon’s fiery breath flaming below me. I’m flying! And from my new vantage point, I spot Bianca, Julia, and Mandy pressed up against the wall outside the bathroom. The fire sucks back into the dragon’s yawning mouth. Following my line of sight, it snaps its head in the direction of the girls. And oh, it’s so very tempting to let him have a snack and hope he’s too full for a main course. The dragon sniffs the air.
I sigh. “Get out of here!” I yell. “Run!”
Bianca stumbles for the door, Julia and Mandy staggering behind her. “I—I knew you were a freak!” Bianca yells.
A hard clapping sounds from deep within the shadows of the room. Leo emerges, smirking. “Brava! You’ve finally learned to fly. Thought you’d never do it.”
I press a hand over my heart; relief oozes through me like warmed caramel at the sight of him, of his marred cheek and half-frozen smile. It means that help is on the way. The break in pressure makes me falter in the air. I fall hard onto the stage, pain slicing up my spine as my crown clatters in front of me.
Leo misinterprets my reaction as fear. “What? You thought we weren’t watching? Oh no”—he shakes his head—“I’ve been watching everything you do, Indigo. I probably know you better than you know yourself. Favorite cereal? Cocoa Puffs. Favorite shampoo? Pantene Curly Hair Series. Your best friend is Paige Abernathy, your next-door neighbor, though it was Bianca Cavanaugh before that. You hate pumping gas, so you let your car run on empty for days until you fill it up. Let’s see, what else?” He taps a finger on his chin.
An involuntary shudder passes through me. “I get it,” I say. I stagger to my feet and push my sweat-dampened tendrils away from my face, sweeping my gaze around the room. Where are they?
Leo tips his head to the side. “Looking for your friends?”
“She doesn’t have to look far.” Bishop sits at a table with his feet up on a chair. He plucks a grape from a tray on the table and pops it into his mouth. And the fact that he isn’t panicked at the sight of a huffing dragon not twenty feet away makes my shoulders relax a tiny bit.
“Give us the Bible and we won’t kill you.” Jezebel enters through the kitchen doors doing her confident, swaying walk.
Leo speaks without even turning to face them. “I think it was you who once said that the one with the knife gets to make the rules. Well, I think the same principle applies here, with the dragon.”
“You think we’re scared of your crappy dragon?” Jezebel throws her head back and laughs.
Speak for yourself, Jezebel.
Leo nods. “Fair enough. But maybe one of my talented colleagues can summon more impressive magic for you. Shall we see?”
The double doors burst open, and men and women clad in suits almost as severe as their expressions file into the room. Ten. Twenty. Thirty …
A chill passes over me, despite the heat and sweat soaking the air inside the Athenaeum.
If Leo can summon a dragon on his own, I don’t want to know what dozens of sorcerers can do together. The Family—where is the Family?
Bishop stands.
“Oh, not so confident anymore?” Leo laughs. As if on cue, the dragon stomps closer to me, rattling dishes off the tables. It paws the air between us. I yelp and leap back, its claws narrowly missing my face.
Leo perches on the end of a table on the opposite side of the dance floor from Bishop. “Just quit being so damn stubborn, Indigo, and break the spell.”
I look to Bishop for direction. He nods at Jezebel, and not an instant later, they both materialize in front of me. Jezebel holds a hand skyward, and the roof of the Athenaeum blows out in a mass of white stucco shards and red cloth.
“Hold on tight.” Bishop grabs me around the middle, and the three of us dart straight up through the ragged hole in the roof, a storm of debris falling around us. We zip high into the cold air above the clouds, and I don’t bother pointing out that I can fly now, not wanting to test my brand-new skills when the Athenaeum is now just a white speck in the darkened cityscape below, and the hundreds of high schoolers milling around outside look as tiny as ants. A homecoming they’ll never forget.
Now that we’ve escaped, the full weight of reality hits me: we failed. My plan failed epically. Not only did we not get the Bible back, or kill Leo, or defeat the Priory, but I exposed witches to the public, ruined homecoming for my peers, and destroyed a city monument. I don’t even want to think about the consequences.
“At least we got out!” Bishop yells over the wind, as if sensing my disappointment and shame. He squeezes me tighter.
“Spoke too soon!” Jezebel yells. She nods behind her.
It’s so far away that at first I think it’s a bird. But it’s fast, really fast, and it’s not long before I can clearly see the veined wings of the dragon snapping up and down against the twilight sky.
“Oh hell!” Bishop shouts.
“Couldn’t have said it better myself!” Jezebel yells.
“What are we going to do?” Bishop asks.
No one speaks, the dragon’s flapping wings—growing louder and louder—reminding us that every second counts.
“Follow me.” Jezebel plunges down suddenly, like a pelican diving for fish. Bishop grips me tighter and follows suit. I’d always thought he didn’t hold back any of his power when flying with me in tow, but now I know that he did—a lot. Because the speed at which we descend toward the ground knocks the breath out of me. Yet, by the time we reach the ground, Jezebel is already lifting up a manhole cover. She tosses it aside like it weighs no more than a penny, and a dank, mildewy smell similar to wet clothes left to dry in a washing machine wafts up.
Reading my mind, Jezebel says “Ew” and pinches her nose. Then, without even crouching down, she drops into the dark hole, only a splashing noise to indicate that she’s landed.
“Jezebel.” My hair hangs around my face as I grip the sides of the hole and peer inside, but it’s too dark; I don’t see anything.
“Hurry up, it’s coming.” Bishop pushes my back.
I do a shoulder check and find the dragon fast approaching, cutting across the star-specked sky at an alarming rate. The fear that had gripped me earlier comes surging back like a jolt of electricity. I kick off my heels and take a leap.
The bottom is farther than I anticipated, and needles of pain shoot up my legs as I splash-land into calf-deep water. I buckle to my knees, hands braced against the gritty-yet-slimy bottom of the sewer for support, shuddering as I consider all the things that could be making the water slimy.
Not a second later, there’s another splash as Bishop leaps into the hole after me, and then a quiet pop as the same taper candle we used for summoning lights up Bishop’s face and the faded redbrick walls behind him. “Come on.” He snags my arm, and we noisily slosh through the muddy water, the heavy, wet taffeta gown sucking against my legs, tripping up my steps despite its short length.
We make it only feet away from the hole we dropped through when a thundering boom shakes the walls. I scream and clutch Bishop’s arm, and he presses my head protectively against his chest. The echoes of the boom still resonate when it is replaced by a squealing roar so high-pitched it makes my ears ring. A taloned paw reaches into the sewer and angrily claws around left and right.
“Quit cuddling and run!” Jezebel yells, waving us toward her from her spot just inside the circle of light cast by the flickering candle.
Bishop pulls me farther into the narrow, snaking bowels of Los Angeles County. The dragon doesn’t follow—can’t follow—but I’m smart enough about the workings of the Priory to know that doesn’t mean we’re safe.
Almost as soon as I have this thought, I become aware that the cold, thick water that was licking my ankles not too long ago now reaches to my knees.
“The water’s rising!” Hysteria breaks my voice, thoughts of drowning in a sewer constricting my throat.
The others don’t respond, as if they noticed already and didn’t want to scare me.
Jezebel’s boots splash three feet ahead of us, leading the charge. “Just keep running,” she says between struggles for air. “We’ll get out at the next sewer cover.”
But it’s kind of hard to run underwater. The cold liquid rises up around the tops of my thighs, an awkward depth too high to run in and yet too shallow to swim in, and I have to lift my legs higher and higher to make any headway. Jezebel’s three-foot lead becomes twenty, and I gasp and struggle for air. Even tyrannical hellish cheerleading training under Bianca’s tyrannical regime has left me unprepared for this task.
“I don’t get it.” Jezebel’s voice breaks up with obvious exhaustion. She slows to a jog, then stops, doubled over and panting. “Why wouldn’t the Family have helped? They promised. It doesn’t make sense. The Priory has the Bible. Why wouldn’t the Family send everyone they’ve got? It’s their own lives on the line.”
It doesn’t make any sense to me either, and I can tell by Bishop’s silence that he’s thinking about it too as he sucks in big gulps of air.
“Come on, we have to keep moving.” Jezebel pushes up and breaks into a sloppy jog again.
The water has slicked higher up my body in the time we’ve spent catching our breath, and though my lungs ache with exhaustion and my overworked heart pounds, I run after her.
Bishop stays at my side even though I know he could have lapped Jezebel twice over. “Take it off.” He gestures to my dress. “It’d be much easier.”
I give him a hard look. “Nice try, but I’m not reenacting your porno fantasies.”
He shrugs. “Suit yourself.”
But it’s only a few slow, heavy steps later that I realize he’s right. In a few minutes’ time, the water will be above my waist, and we’ll have to swim. “Unlace me.”
“Oh God,” Jezebel calls from up ahead.
“Hurry up! The water.” I spin around to give Bishop access to the corset-back of my gown. He whirls around, looking for someplace to put the candle before sticking it on a small ledge poking out of the brick.
He splashes up behind me, and even above the whoosh of water in the intakes and Jezebel’s splashing footsteps, I hear him swallow hard, hesitating, fingers fumbling with my laces.
“I didn’t come back just because I was ordered!” he yells over the noise.
Familiar tears sting my eyes. Which is stupid, because really—so not the most important thing right now. Water moves up to my hip bones, the skirt of the dress puffing up around me.
“It’s true the Family sent me to train you as punishment for losing the Bible,” he says. “But they had no idea that I really wanted to do it, that I’d been dying to see you again. It wasn’t a punishment at all.” He takes hold of my shoulders, and I draw in a little breath. “The real punishment was being away from you.”
My heart swells so much I’m worried it will burst, relief and happiness causing tears to spill down my cheeks.
“And I only stopped that day at the sand dunes because I didn’t want you to regret anything. I didn’t want you to think back on what you’d done and hate me for it.”
Heat floods my face at the mention of that day, and I’m glad my back is to him so he can’t see it. But as much as I don’t want to forgive him for humiliating me, I know he’s right. I would have felt like he’d preyed on my vulnerability if he’d let things go any further.
“Indie.” He pleads my name, his fingers brushing tentatively along the cold skin of my arm. His touch sends a current down my body.
“Okay, you’re right,” I say tersely.
Silence. And then, “What did you just say?”
I huff and spin around to face him, not bothering to wipe my tear-stained face. “I said you’re right. You’re right and I was wrong. Go ahead and enjoy the moment because it’s probably never happening again—”
He takes my face in his hands and kills my words with a kiss. A kiss so intense it would scare me if it didn’t thrill me so much. Long and deep and lingering.
“What’s taking you guys so … long.” Jezebel slows to a halt.
I pull back from Bishop, my breathing as erratic as my pulse.
“Oh, well, pardon me,” Jezebel says. “I guess I mistakenly thought we were running for our lives.” She turns on her heel and keeps running.
I bring my eyes up to Bishop’s. “She hates us.”
“And I don’t care.”
I laugh. “Okay, get me out of this thing.”
“With pleasure.”
I roll my eyes and hold my arms out as Bishop stretches the corset’s laces until the bodice hangs loose around my bust. Then I wriggle out of the dress with Bishop’s eager help until I’m wearing nothing but my boy-cut underwear and an interestingly shaped bra made specially for open-backed dresses. But Bishop doesn’t seem to notice the ugly bra, his dark eyes exploring me.
“Aren’t you going to strip down?” I ask.
“Indigo, I have a feeling your boyfriend wouldn’t approve of this.” He tosses my dress aside—it lands with a slopping sound before sinking from sight—and then shrugs out of his jacket. Much as I’d like to, I don’t wait for him to get undressed.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I say, leading the way into the darkness where Jezebel disappeared.
“Interesting.” Bishop follows on my heels, bringing along the taper. “He looked like your boyfriend when you were snogging earlier. Congrats on the homecoming queen thing, by the way.”
“He kissed me. Against my will. And thanks. Now can we concentrate on escaping this sewer before we drown?”
“Sure thing, boss.”
It doesn’t take long for me to regret our little bonding moment. Not the kiss but the time we wasted; the water now reaches my ribs, and we might as well be trying to run in quicksand for all the progress we’re making, near naked or no. We’re forced to ditch the candle in favor of a headlamp Bishop conjures, and revert to messy front strokes, craning our heads back every few lengths to look for a sewer cover we can escape through. Panic punches the air out of my chest.
“What if we don’t find one?” I struggle to catch my breath between strokes. “What if we can’t get out?”
“No worries.” Bishop’s voice is calm and unconcerned.
“What’s the plan? Snorkeling mask? Break through the roof?” I inadvertently swallow a mouthful of slimy water and have to stop, bobbing as I cough and sputter uncontrollably.
“Finally stopped sucking face, huh?”
Bishop pulls up short, shining the light from his headlamp onto Jezebel, who stands just a few feet in front of us. Her hair is sucked flat against her head, the ends fanning out around her like jellyfish tentacles in the water, and her arms are crossed like a petulant child’s.
“It’s a ‘to be continued’ sort of thing,” Bishop retorts.
Jezebel’s nostrils flare, but she changes topics. “Found one.” She gestures up at the barely noticeable outline of a circle in the curved roof.
“Oh, thank God,” I say.
“Or thank me. But whatever. Bish, help me with this. Not enough room to fly in here.”
Bishop hoists Jezebel up—and I have to remind myself that his arms are around her for a good cause, and that it’s petty and stupid to be jealous just because they used to date and she’s super hot. Jezebel pushes the sewer cover off with ease. Streetlight falls into the hole as she pokes her head aboveground. “We’re good.”
Bishop pushes her up the rest of the way, then turns to me. “You’re next.”
Bishop’s more handsy than necessary as he pushes me up, but I don’t complain. Jezebel doesn’t come over to help, just lets me grapple clumsily at the pavement until I finally make it out. She gives me an up-and-down appraisal as I get to my feet, and I become aware that I’m standing, soaking wet and near naked, on a Pasadena street.
“I so don’t get it, but whatever. I guess he’s a butt guy.”
I cross my arms over my small chest.
“Am not,” Bishop says. “I like boobs as much as butts. Little help here?” He extends his arm out of the sewer.
The water is so high now that I can easily reach Bishop. Jezebel and I each take a hand and hoist him out. He lands on the pavement with a loud slop.
As soon as he’s on his feet, Bishop gives me the same appraisal Jezebel did. “Hmm, we should get trapped in a sewer more often.” He whirls a finger in my direction, and a tank top and shorts—albeit skanky ones—appear on my body, along with a pair of boat shoes.
“You know, this is getting a bit boring.”
I gasp. All three of us whirl around at the same time. The dozens of sorcerers from inside the Athenaeum pack the otherwise quiet street, Leo standing at their head.
“I think I might have to kill you and forget about breaking the spell after all,” he says, stepping forward.
“He wouldn’t kill you,” Bishop says. “He’d drain his powers.”
“You forget we tried to kill you once already, Bishop,” Leo says. He grins, his hooded eye twitching erratically. “Not sure how you’re alive right now, after that poor kid lost his powers killing you, but we’re not afraid to try again. There are more than a few people here that are very, very dedicated to the cause. Would give up their power in a second to see a witch go down. Isn’t that right?” Everyone behind him nods. “And I do have a few other tricks up my sleeve. Tricks I think you’ll particularly enjoy.”
“Don’t listen to him, Ind.” Bishop moves so he’s standing in front of me “If he kills you, he loses his chance at breaking the spell.”
“Wrong again, Bishop. Then I target Penny Blackwood. She might be the most useless witch on planet Earth, but I do what needs to be done.”
Leo cocks his head. “What? Don’t tell me you didn’t know your aunt was a witch?”
Bishop’s speech at the Hollywood sign slams back into my mind. Based on my grandparents’ genes, Mom had a fifty percent chance of being a witch, which means so did Aunt Penny. My heart sinks even lower, right around knee level. Why didn’t she tell me? And if she’s a witch, why isn’t she helping me now? Better yet, why haven’t the Priory targeted her? Surely she can’t be more useless than a witch with about five seconds of experience. I don’t get it.
“You just have to face it.” Leo takes two steps closer, rubbing his chin like some sort of gangster. “We’re just smarter than you. Like your little bait idea, for example. We were on to you before it was even a thought in your mind.”
Something about the word “bait” sticks out, and I latch on to it. The Family didn’t help us tonight, like they’d said they would. The Family hasn’t helped us, really, since the moment the Bible went missing. It doesn’t make any sense. None of it makes sense. But suddenly, everything clicks into place, and a humorless laugh slips from my mouth. “Bait,” I mutter.
Bishop shakes my arm. “Indie?”
“You see”—Leo walks closer, the yellow light of a streetlamp magnifying the bright pink craters in his burned skin, making them appear like lakes on a globe of the world—“we’ve got intelligence in areas you wouldn’t even dream. Would never in a million years consider. Not only that …”
I tune out his speech, the truth unfolding before my eyes. Bait—I can’t believe how obvious it is, how I could have missed it until now. “I’ll do it,” I blurt out.
“What?” Bishop turns and touches my shoulder. “Indie, you’re being stupid—”
“Don’t touch me.” I shake off his hand. “Never touch me again, do you hear me? I hate you.”
Bishop’s brows draw together, hurt and confusion muddying his dark eyes.
“Trouble in paradise?” Leo laughs at his own joke, and his minions hurry to follow suit.
I swallow my urge to kiss every part of Bishop’s face until the hurt disappears, and face Leo. “I’ll do it if you promise to kill him.” I cross my arms and jut my chin toward Bishop. “And if you let me and Jezebel go free.”
“I like the sound of this,” Jezebel pipes up.
“Indie, what are you talking about?” Bishop moves in front of me and bends low, trying to force me to look at him.
“Oh, please. Like you don’t know. You are so fake. Fake, fake, fake!” I give him a pointed look on the last “fake” and, finally, a glimmer of recognition crosses his eyes.
I move away from Bishop, toward Leo. “Bring me to the Bible.”
Leo’s eyes narrow, and he doesn’t say a word. An icy fear that he’s on to me grips my spine.
As if sensing the danger, Bishop grabs my arm and spins me around to face him. “Indie, please. Give me another chance.” He leans in to kiss me.
I draw my arm back, then lunge all my body weight into a punch that cracks across his cheek like a bat striking a fastball. Bishop stumbles back, hands up around his face.
“What the hell was that?” His voice is high and strained—no acting job there.
“Try it again and I’ll cut your balls off, you—you cheating jerk!” I face Leo again. “Take me to the Bible. You know my terms.”
Leo looks between the two of us, and for one horrible moment I think he hasn’t fallen for it. But then he gives a curt nod. “Take them all to the compound.”
Two of Leo’s goons surge forward, pulling something black out of their back pockets. He pulls the same item out of his own pocket, and I realize now that it’s a bag. “Can’t have you telling your little Family members where they can find us,” he explains, before snapping the bag over my head.