The goal of Adept dodge ball was to practice throwing magic at a target. In this case, Scout, Jason, and Michael were the targets, which meant I had to practice throwing really light firespell. Diet firespell. Strong enough that they wanted to jump out of the way, but not so strong that I actually hurt anyone.
It wasn’t as easy as it sounded.
“We’re waiting, Lils,” Jason said, moving toward Scout and beckoning me forward with a crooked finger. “Come and get us.”
He was cute, but this wasn’t just a race down a hallway.
This was firespell.
Sure, the power was still new to me. Mine was an accidental gift. I’d gotten my magic after a Reaper, Sebastian Born, inadvertently hit me with a shot of his own firespell. But I was getting better at controlling it—and throwing it at others.
“You got it,” I muttered, closing my eyes and opening myself to the flow of power that spilled through the tunnels beneath me. It rose through my arms and legs, looking for a way out, a way back to ground. It tickled my fingertips, eager to move.
I opened my eyes again, the cage lights that hung in the ceiling of this stretch of tunnel flickering with the effort. I imagined gathering up a lump of power like a snowball, and as Jason, Scout, and Michael stepped over the threshold into the next segment of tunnel, I lobbed it at the ceiling above them.
Scout squealed and ducked; the firespell exploded into a shower of green sparks that vibrated the walls around us. Not exactly a comforting feeling when you were a story or two underground, but it’s not like we had better practice grounds. Other than Reapers and the few nonmagical folks in Chicago who knew we had magic and helped us stay safe, our powers were secret.
“The race is on!” Michael said. He took off down the tunnel, Jason and Scout behind him.
I gathered up a bit more firespell and ran down the tunnel after them. Each caged light dimmed as I passed beneath it, like they were bowing to the power I held in my hand. I tossed another ball of firespell as the trio disappeared through an arched doorway, sparks showering down behind them.
I muttered a curse. Sure, I wasn’t supposed to hit them, but I was trying to get as close as possible. And that last one could have been a little bit closer.
Water splashed in the tunnels in front of me as they ran away. The tunnels had been used for a small railroad that carried coal and trash between the buildings in Chicago. Water tended to collect in the floor between the old rails, not to mention the stuff that seeped down from the walls. The tunnels were usually dark and always cold, and they were especially chilly now that winter was on its way.
I followed the sounds of their splashing like a trail of crumbs, pausing when they slipped into a segment of tunnel I hadn’t seen before. There was a thin metal bar across the threshold.
“Is that actually supposed to keep anyone out?” I wondered, slipping underneath it and hustling ahead. But when silence filled the tunnel, I stopped.
It was quiet except for the slow drip of water somewhere behind me. Quiet enough that I could hear blood humming in my ears—and still no sounds of the other Adepts. Had they stopped running? Snuck into a side tunnel to ambush me when I wasn’t looking?
Only one way to find out.
I let the power flow a little more—just enough to gather a bit in my hand and scare the pants off them if they tried to be sneaky. I crept forward one step at a time, trying not to worry about the little multilegged things that were probably scurrying around me in the dark.
The lights were dimmer here, but they still flickered as I walked beneath them—stalked beneath them, with a pent-up dose of firespell in hand.
“Hello?” I whispered, peeking into a nook in the concrete. Empty. The firespell itching to be set free, I rubbed my fingers together.
“Anybody there?” I whispered, sneaking to the end of the tunnel and peeking into the next one, but there were no lights. It was too dark to see ahead of me more than a few feet, and every few feet that didn’t reveal three grinning Adepts (or two grinning Adepts and a werewolf) just made me more nervous. Anticipation built as I waited for them to make their move.
My nerves pulled tight, I stopped. “All right, you guys. I give up. Let’s head upstairs. I have party committee tonight.”
There was shuffling in the dark in front of me. I froze, my heart thudding beneath my shirt. “Guys?”
“Boo!”
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew Scout had jumped behind me, but my brain wasn’t exactly working. I screamed aloud and jumped at least two feet into the air, and then let go of the firespell I’d been holding back.
It flew from my hand, warping the air as it moved. It wavered past Jason and Michael, who’d edged against the walls of the tunnel to avoid it, but hit Scout full-on. Her body shook with the impact, and then went slack. I reached out and grabbed her before she fell, and I lowered her gently to the ground, her body cradled in my lap. Tears pricked at my eyes. “Oh, crap—Scout, are you okay? Scout?! Are you all right?”
Michael rushed to her side. He put a hand to her forehead, then tapped her cheeks like he was trying to wake her up. “Scout? Are you all right?”
“Scout, I am so sorry,” I said, panicked at the thought I’d knocked my best friend unconscious. It wasn’t exactly a good way to repay the first girl who’d actually paid attention to me when I’d been shipped to St. Sophia’s a few months ago.
Jason kneeled beside me and looked her over. “I’m sure she’ll be fine. You weren’t going full force, were you?”
“Of course not,” I said, but she had scared me. What if I’d accidentally turned up the firespell volume?
“If you wake up,” I said, “I’ll let you wear my fuzzy boots—those ones you really like? And I won’t complain when you take my chocolate muffin anymore at breakfast. You can have it every day from now on. I swear—just wake up, okay?”
A few seconds passed in silence . . . and then Scout opened one eye and grinned at me. She’d been faking!
“The chocolate muffin, huh?” she said. “And the fuzzy boots? You heard her, boys—you’re my witnesses.”
It didn’t bother me that she landed in the middle of a puddle when I dumped her onto the floor.
Maybe I should have firespelled her a little harder.
2
How did you top off an afternoon of being faked out by your best friend in an abandoned tunnel beneath Chicago?
You helped snooty heiresses make party decorations.
Sure, party preparations were a little out of character for me, but that’s exactly why I was doing it. It wasn’t that I was eager to hang out with the other girls on the committee—most of them were into luxury handbags and money flaunting—but there was something seriously relaxing about playing around with glue and glitter. No rats. No spiders. No Reapers. No “workouts.” Just a little mindless arts-and-craftsing. Yes, please.