From her glare, Svena obviously thought it could, but with Marci captured and the clock ticking, Julius was ready to push a lot harder than usual. He thanked Justin several times and hurried out, rushing down the hospital hall as he mentally planned the route that would get him to Amelia’s rooms at the top of the mountain as quickly as possible.
This turned out to be overkill. Now that the Council was officially complete, the mountain was emptying as fast as it had filled up. The halls that had been packed with whispering Heartstrikers just a few hours ago were now quiet and clear, creating an easy path for Julius and the rest as they raced to the elevators for the long trip up to Amelia and Bob’s private floor.
But while getting to Amelia’s hall was infinitely easier, the walk to her door was every bit as terrifying as Julius remembered. Thankfully, Chelsie was there to find all the traps, or they would have all ended up cursed within an inch of their lives. Finally, after what felt like forever, they made it to the door. Julius opened it without knocking, bursting into her dark room. But the simultaneous apology and request for transport died on his lips when he saw what was waiting inside.
Just like before, Amelia’s room was pitch black. The casting circle was still there, along with the requisite F in the middle—Frieda again this time, and looking none too happy about it—but Amelia was no longer standing over the spellwork like a movie sorceress. Instead, she was lying on one of Bethesda’s old fainting couches that someone had pulled right up to the circle’s edge, using her bare foot to keep in contact with the circle while she drank straight from a bottle of wine like a baby sucking on a pacifier.
“Really,” Svena said as Julius and Chelsie ran forward. “How pathetic can you get?”
“Amelia!” Chelsie bellowed at the same time, marching into the heavy dark like she was plunging into boiling water. That was exactly what it felt like, too: a kettle at a roiling boil. With knives in it.
Despite looking like she was about to fall asleep, Amelia was rolling harder than ever. Her magic was so thick and sharp in the air, it was a physical force. If he hadn’t been so desperate to get to Marci, Julius never would have gone inside. Thankfully, the terrifying power dropped off within seconds of Chelsie marching in, the invisible knives vanishing as Amelia grudgingly lifted her foot. “Would it kill you to knock?”
Chelsie ignored her, marching right into the middle of the circle to help Frieda, who was looking like she might be sick. “What are you doing?”
“There’s no need to yell,” Amelia grumbled, rubbing her red-rimmed eyes as she sat up. “And the same thing I’ve been doing for three days. I’m trying to break the green eyes.”
“Well,stopit,” Chelsie snapped as she lifted Frieda to her feet. “F-clutch are not your guinea pigs.”
“They are until the Council says otherwise,” Amelia reminded her. “You don’t give me orders, little sister.”
“Big words from a dragon who doesn’t look like she’s breaking anything except herself,” Chelsie growled. “When was the last time you slept?”
“I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” Amelia said with a shrug.
“Which will be tomorrow at the rate you’re going,” Svena said, snatching the wine bottle away before Amelia could take another swig. “Do we need to have an intervention? I know you’re obsessed with beating me, but if you kill yourself over it, neither of us wins.”
“You could always give me a hint,” she suggested sweetly.
“You are impossible,” Svena said, tossing the half-empty wine bottle to Ian, who caught it easily. “I don’t know why I bother.”
“Because I’m the best you’ll ever get, snow bat,” Amelia said, flopping back onto her couch with a grin. “Now, is someone going to tell me why there’s suddenly a party in my rooms, or do I have to—Hello.”
She sat up again in a rush as she spotted Raven and the UN team standing in the doorway. “Well, well, look who flew in,” she said, reaching up to smooth her tangled black hair. “Long time no see, Raven.”
“Same to you,” Raven said, fluttering off the general’s shoulder to land on the arm of Amelia’s couch. “I wish I could say you’re looking well, but even I’m not that good of a liar.” He looked her up and down. “What are you doing, Amelia?”
“Moving up in life,” she said, reaching under the couch to pull out another bottle of wine. She bit the cork and the glass neck off the bottle with her teeth, spitting it out into the dark before turning to the UN team, who’d finally come inside. “Who are your pets?”
“General Emily Jackson, United Nations,” Emily answered without missing a beat. “And this is Sir Myron Rollins, undersecretary of magic.”
“Planeswalker,” Myron said, stepping forward eagerly. “It is an honor to finally—”
“I’m sure it is,” Amelia said, taking a slug off her wine bottle. “But I’m not in the market for another mage right now, and you’re too old in any case. You, though.” She looked the general up and down. “Youareinteresting.” She looked back at Raven. “How’d you manage that piece of work?”
Raven preened. “Didn’t you know I’m extraordinarily talented?”
“Of course,” Amelia said, rolling her eyes as she turned back to the general. “When you get tired of him, come hit me up. I’m always looking for prime—Ow!”
She grabbed her head as Raven fluttered away with several strands of her black hair in his beak. “Stop trying to poach my human,” he said, spitting them out.
“Why should she?” Svena asked from the sidelines. “Isn’t human poaching how you two fools got together in the first place?”
“She’s got you there,” Amelia said, laughing. “You were always snatching my humans, thieving bird. You had a bigger human collection than I did before the drought sent you to sleep.”
“It was not acollection,” Raven said defensively. “It was a village, and I was experimenting to see—”
“Enough,” General Jackson snapped, glaring at Raven. “We’re not here to discuss ancient history.”
