Owen didn’t give me a chance to answer. He grabbed my hand and said, “This isn’t a good idea.”
I squeezed his hand as I turned to face him. “You said I was running low on magic and would eventually run out. Why don’t I just burn myself out and then make a break for it?”
“You’d give up your magic?”
“It’s not like I have a choice. It’s eventually going to be gone anyway.”
“But draining your power should be a last resort.”
“This is a last resort,” I snapped. More gently, I added, “I’m okay with it, really. I like being immune. I think I’m more useful that way.” I curled my fingers around his. “I know you hated being without magic, but that’s who you are. Being immune is what I am, and going back to that would mean being myself again.”
“I’m not sure what this place would be like to someone who can’t be affected by the illusions. You probably wouldn’t be able to hide the fact that you’re not affected for long. It could even be dangerous.”
“Have you got any better ideas?” Florence asked. “Because I’m all ears if you do. But I’m thinking that having an immune is our ace in the hole, and this is time to use it.”
“This is even better than sending a note,” I argued. “I can tell Merlin directly what’s going on.”
“You’d be coming through the portal into their headquarters,” Owen pointed out.
“Yeah, and they’ll use magic to fight me. Which won’t work because of the immunity thing.” I was feeling more and more confident about this plan.
“If you’re going to burn off magic, I suggest you do it here,” Florence said. “It won’t be as noticeable in the park, but then that means you’ll have to get across town without magic, and I honestly don’t know what that would be like for you. Magical immunity is incompatible with this construct.”
“I can only burn off so much power on my own,” I said. “I can get down to normal human levels of magic—enough to be affected by it—here, and then one of you can draw on me to drain me the rest of the way once we get to the portal. Something tells me I won’t be able to just walk up to it and waltz through it.”
“We’ll have to fight our way to it,” Florence confirmed.
“Then a little extra juice might come in handy for one of you,” I said. “We probably also need a better plan than just me walking through the portal.” I checked my watch. “It would be best if we could time it for right after the shift change—the fewer guards, the better. And maybe we should create a diversion elsewhere in the neighborhood to draw more guards away.”
“We could give Mac his uprising,” Owen suggested. “That would make him happy.”
“We’ll have to find Mac to revive him and loop him in,” I said. “Do we even know where he goes after dark?”
“You mean the two guys who play chess in the park all day, the Council men?” Florence asked. “I know where to find them.”
“You’ll have to go revive them,” I said to Owen. “You’re the one with memories that might trigger Mac.”
“I’m not leaving you alone while you drain your magic,” Owen insisted stubbornly.
“Maybe any memories from when he was himself will work, even if they’re from here,” Brad suggested. “Some of us could go to him and try that. If he followed directions, he has some written memories, too. We just have to make him look at them.”
“Let’s go with that approach,” I said with a nod. “You go get Mac and anyone else you can find, and then cause as much trouble and noise as you can, starting at eight thirty. Anyone who’s still standing and themselves an hour later should head toward the portal. If I’m able to send help, it’ll be easier if we have most of our people nearby.”
They all nodded in agreement. I stood and brushed grass off my skirt. “We may as well get started.” Florence gave Mac’s address to Brad, and the riot team headed off. I turned to Owen and said, “Now, how do I want to use my very last magic? Maybe a few more minutes as a blond bombshell.”
Owen winced as he stood to join me. “Please, not that one.”
“Okay, how about this?” I sent up a shower of sparks that danced down around us. It was like that night in the bookstore when we’d discovered our powers, and Owen smiled, at last.
Watching the sparks fall, I found myself growing wistful. As much as I believed every argument I’d made in favor of this plan, I couldn’t help but feel a little regret at losing magic for good, if only because I wouldn’t be able to do fun little things like this.
