“Oh. I thought you were going to ask me to cram you into a suitcase and wheel you out.”
I point to her enthusiastically. “Ooh, I like that better!”
The people in front of us grab their carry-ons and leave, so we stand too.
Hazel sighs. “How am I supposed to manage two sets of luggage alone? And what’ll we do with all your displaced clothes?”
I shrug into my heavy backpack. “Keep thinking. We’ve got a few minutes to make a plan.”
And probably only that long before Fiona decides my fate.
Hazel and I disembark and walk through the carpeted maze beneath fluorescent lights, everyone’s rolling suitcases rumbling like thunder. Rain streams down the windows in typical West Coast fashion, blurring the familiar view of the mountains.
When we get to baggage claim, I stop in my tracks. This is the domestic terminal, which means there’s no customs checkpoint—no barrier between us and the waiting area. I can seethe exit from here, and so anyone watching can march right up to me.
I grab Hazel’s arm and yank her behind a planter. “I don’t have time to wait for my luggage. I’m a target the second I step out there.”
Hazel looks around and grabs my arm right back, dropping her voice to an urgent whisper. “What if we switch clothes?”
I eye her gray University of Toronto hoodie and sweatpants. Inconspicuous. Meanwhile, I’m a beacon, and I’m sure everyone in the coven has seen me in this outfit before.
“Your choice,” Hazel says, reading my internal battle.
I slump. Dammit, I wanted Natalie to see me this way. “Okay. Good idea.”
We duck into the nearest bathroom and lock ourselves in neighboring stalls. Fighting my backpack and Ethel’s kennel for space, I strip down, mourning my hot outfit as I toss it over the divider to Hazel. Bye, sexy cleavage.
Her sweatsuit smells like her, reminding me of when we borrowed each other’s clothes in high school. Simpler times.
As we emerge from our stalls, Hazel looks pleased with her end of the deal.
I scan her up and down. “Damn, girl. You’re going to get all the ladies looking like that.”
She checks herself out in the mirror. “Really?”
Her tone is pretty enthusiastic for someone who is straight, but we can unpack that later. Right now, panic sets in as I check my reflection. “I’m still obviously me! Ugh, why didn’t I pack my balaclava?”
That thing has gotten me through magic-related crises before, and it could do it again.
Hazel reaches out and pulls the hood up. “Hide your hair.”
I tie the strings so it cinches around my face. Yup, I officially look like a weirdo for my reunion with Natalie.
“Better…” Hazel circles me like a fashion consultant who is terrible at her job. “I read a lot of spy novels as a kid, and there’s more to a good disguise. You have to change your posture and the way you walk. And give me Ethel.”
I hand over the kennel and hunch my shoulders. “Like this?”
“More.”
I slump further down so I’m shaped like the letter S.
Hazel nods. “Perfect.”
I shuffle my feet and bow my head as we return to baggage claim.
Hazel is looking around way too much, her eyes darting from person to person. “What does Fiona look like?” she whispers.
“Stop acting suspicious!” I hiss back.
