Then her nostrils flare. And I remember, I have other senses too. My sense of smell isn't as strong right now for some reason, but I can tell the person driving the van is a witch. We bouncearound in the back, tossed together like airport luggage. It's just the three of us.
My head is pounding, but something else is wrong, and it's there, in the back of my mind… How I felt this morning—sluggish and cranky, hormonal—it's tenfold now. And my skin feels itchy. Kind of hot.
Andrea's still making eyebrows at me, so I wiggle toward her. She rears back until she realizes what I'm trying to do. Then she shoves her head at me so fast, her hard forehead knocks mine and I have to swallow the yelp.
I quickly glance up at the driver. He can't hear us, not if we're quiet. He's not a shifter, he doesn't have our senses. Still, we can't be loud.
Back to the task, I wiggle closer, gripping the cloth around Andrea's mouth with my teeth. I saw through it, awkwardly, and she helps, and it probably looks like we're making out, but that would be better than the alternative if the witch notices.
But he doesn't, too focused on the long road ahead. I don't know where we are, but I can feel in my heart the further we drive away from Silent Peak.
Eventually we get the mouthpiece off, and Andrea frantically whispers, "They spelled you. They tried to spell me but it burned off. It was fucking Stance, that useless piece of shit. When I get my hands on him—"
"Andrea! Focus!" I hiss.
She nods. "Right. You're right. Look, I don't know what they want, but they're taking you to a secondary location in Canada."
"Isn't that where Grayson and Orion went?"
She nods. "Yes, but their seer saw them coming. Not the attack, exactly, but the witches suspected you'd be unprotected."
Panic rips through me. "Grayson and Orion—"
"They'll be fine. Probably. They're with Kendrick. I'm not worried about them, I'm worried about us."
"How do you know all this?" I ask suspiciously.
Andrea rolls her eyes. "Stance. The fucking idiot was boasting. After Gray kicked him out, the witches caught up with him at the border, offered who-knows-what—money or land, probably lied and said they'd support his claim to be Lune, that fucking smarmy asshole dipshit motherfucker—"
"Andrea!" I hiss.
"Right, sorry. I just can't believe he caught me off guard. We fought, but he had witches with him. He knew he could never take me without magical intervention. Fucking scrotum."
"So, Stance betrayed the clan?"
She nods. "That's how the witches kept getting in and knew more than they should. Our patrols change constantly, but still, Stance knows everything about how we operate, he grew up in our clan."
I gasp, remembering— "Joey?"
Her expression darkens. "He'll be okay. Stance didn't hurt him too bad, but it was the magic that kept him injured. They used him to lure you out. Kid's young, but he'll be okay."
I glance up at the driver again. He scratches his forehead, but otherwise pays us no mind.
"What now?"
"Now we fuck shit up. Except I can't move and you're useless. We need to wait until he stops. Be prepared, play dead."
I should be offended, but— "That's your plan?"
"You have a better one?"
I try to shrug as much as I can with my hands tied behind my back. "It's just like every villain movie ever made."
Andrea glares. "You know, we're in this mess because of you."
"How is this my fault?"
"I tried to tell everyone the witches sent you. They didn't send you—they lost track of you. Same difference. So, I'd like to point out, I was right all along."
