“Scout, we have to go. Detroit’s injured and—”
“You don’t have to be here. I’ve been working on a spell. I can plant it alone and get out afterward. You don’t have to be here.”
That, I realized, was what she’d been working on her in room. Getting rid of the sanctuary had been her plan all along.
“I was one of them, Lily. I know how they work—how much it hurts, how bad it feels.” She slapped a hand to her chest. “I’m an Adept. I make a promise every day to help the people they try to hurt. To stop them from doing it. I can’t leave this place here for them to use at will. I can’t.”
Tears began to brim in her eyes. “I can’t.”
We looked at each other for a moment, before I nodded. “Then I stay. And I help.”
She shook her head. “You should go. You used up all your firespell.”
“I think Sebastian taught me how to make my own power.”
Her eyes went even wider. “Lily—” she began, but I shook my head.
“I’ve already kind of tried it, and I think it will work. You need it, and that’s all I need to know to try again. What’s your spell supposed to do?”
“Implode the sanctuary.”
Well, that would probably do it.
“Won’t that take down the buildings on the street?”
She shook her head. “It’s a pinpoint spell. It’ll wipe down the interior, but leave the architecture—the hardware—intact. It’s like cleaning off your hard drive—the hard drive’s still there afterward, right?”
I still wasn’t crazy about the idea—one wrong move, and we single-handedly brought down whatever building happened to be above us—but she was right—we couldn’t just leave this place intact. Decision made, I nodded back at her. “Okay.
What do we do?”
She reached into her bag and pulled out one of the tiny houses from her shelf.
“We have to set this spell. Then I give the incantation, and we run.”
“Can you take down a building this big?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t actually tried it. And even better, I’m only going to get one shot.”
An idea bloomed. I reached out my hand toward Scout. “Then we make that one shot count. Give me your hand.”
“You want to help me trigger it?”
“It worked last time.”
“It hurt last time.”
“And it’s probably going to hurt this time, too. But if that’s what we need to do, it’s what we need to do. And we’re in this together.”
“You’re the best.”
“I know. But mostly I want to get out of here. Preferably in one piece.”
She nodded, then walked into the room and put the tiny house on one of the tables. When she made it back to me, we let the door close in front of us. Scout offered her hand. I gripped it tightly in mine.
Before we could begin, Michael ran back around the corner. “What are you doing? We need to go.”
“Michael,” I said. “Run. Tell Jason to get out of the building, and tell everyone to huddle down at the other end of the corridor. We’ll be right behind you. We promise. But for now, we’ve got to take care of the sanctuary. Go now.”
I saw the hitch—he wasn’t sure if he should leave us.
Scout looked back at him. “Do you trust me?”
His face fell. “Scout—” She shook her head. “I have to do this, Michael. And I need you to trust me.
Okay?”
He ran to her and whispered something in her ear. She threw her arms around his neck and gave him a fierce hug, then pressed a kiss to his cheek.
“Run,” she said, and Michael took off. I trusted Scout just like he did, but that didn’t mean I didn’t still cross my fingers for luck.
Scout moved back, took my hand, and closed her eyes. “Your cue is ‘night.’ When I hit that, fill me up.”
“Let’s do this,” I agreed, and then she began.
“We are bringers of light.”
I closed my eyes. Instead of pulling in power from the world around us—power that I’d had trouble controlling the last time—I imagined a spark blooming of its own accord. Bright and green, shaped like a dandelion.
“We are fighters of right.”
I opened my eyes. There, in front of me, hovered a tiny green spark. Small, but condensed. A lot of power in one tiny ember.
“We must pull this place in, and make safe the night.”
I pulled the spark into both of us. It bloomed and blossomed and spilled outward. I opened my eyes, and through the window in the door saw the tiny house explode into shards of light.
And then it began.
Like a tornado had suddenly kicked up in the Chicago underground, all the stuff in the building—doors, walls, tables, medical implements—was sucked behind us.
Scout and I yanked our hands away from each other. It definitely hurt—my fingers burning like I’d stuck them into a roaring fire—but we were still on our feet.
And then we ran like the rats were still after us.
We hurdled spinning lamps and dodged computer gear, pushing ourselves against walls to avoid the doors that came hurtling toward us. Scout stumbled over an office chair, and I grabbed and pulled her along until she was on her feet again.