15
An Unsettling Appearance
The next morning undid all the blissful feelings of the night before.
Willi and Bernie, arriving early for one last practice, got into a spittle-emitting argument when Bernie turned in his worst performance in months. Then Willi and Hartgrave topped that by about twenty decibels when Hartgrave recommended delaying their strike-force operation. In the interest of getting everyone back on the same page, Emily suggested that what they needed was a stirring speech—and Hartgrave’s response was so cutting, she couldn’t trust herself to speak to him for an hour.
What put an end to it all was the frightening sound of an SOS.
Everyone crowded around Hartgrave’s cell phone. Two dots—reddots—on what was clearly the part of town just outside campus.
Willi grabbed Hartgrave’s arm.“Scheiße!”
Bernie’s voice shook as he said, “How did they know?”—just as she asked what she thought was the far more critical question: “What can wedo?”
“Quiet!” Hartgrave pulled his phone away. “Sit, all of you!”
She stumbled to the real bed, Bernie heading for the other. Willi, a wild look in his eyes, half-sat on the chair.
“It’s Crawford and Shaw,” Hartgrave said, pacing. “Now listen: This is what we’ll do. We’re going to eat lunch. Weare,” he added when Willi made to object. “We’re going to eat, wait for it to settle and then proceed with the plan.”
“But it’s only half-past five in Cornwall.” Bernie stole an anxious glance at her. “You’ll lose all the advantage of the time difference. Everyone in the house will still be awake.”
“I know,” Hartgrave snapped. “Believe me, I know. But they’ll assume you two are connected with me in some way and will be extra eager to follow wherever you go, which is something. Daggett, are you with me?”
“Yes,” she said, heart racing.
Their meal was preternaturally quiet. Bernie and Willi conjured chairs around the stone table and ate there, looking one more time at their separate lists of coordinates that appeared safe for magical travel. Hartgrave sat next to her on the bed, phone balanced on his thigh.
She chewed a sandwich Willi had brought, unable to taste it at all, and watched the red dots move up Main Street—the road running alongside a large part of campus. Where would Crawford and Shaw go first? Administration? The IT building?
But instead of crossing onto campus, the pair turned the other direction. Down Grand Avenue. And there, half a block in, they stopped.
Of all the epiphanies she’d ever had, this was by far the worst.
Her street. Her house, the one she’d rented for three months. They weren’t looking for Hartgrave—they were looking forher.
She clutched his arm, horror rendering her temporarily speechless. He got one look at her and turned back to the map, eyes wide.
“Your place,” he said, keeping his voice down. “That wasyourplace, wasn’t it?”
“How—how could they have ... ?”
“I don’t know,” he said, despair shot through each clipped word.
She hadn’t appreciated just how much easier it was to be brave when you were facing evil anonymously and could fade back into the woodwork when done. That realization struck her now with all the force of a blow to the chest.
“What am I going to do?” Her whispered words were frantic. Her hands shook. She was trying to hold it together, and failing.
“I’ll think of something,” he said. He did not sound confident.
“Oh God—oh God, oh God ...”
“Don’t,” he said, voice sharp. “Daggett—”
“You knew I was being stupid all along.” She covered her eyes with her hands. “Oh yes, I’m so courageous, I can’t wait for an adventure, just give me a chance to prove what aheroI am.”
He moved her hands away from her face—by her sleeved elbows—and gave her a measuring look. “Do you still want to go through with it?”
