“Yes—yes,” she said. “Could you … please take me home?”
If he did, she could run—could at least try to escape.
He said nothing, weighing the consequences, perhaps, and she couldn’t guess at what he was thinking because she couldn’t see him.
“I can’t make a promise to you about what my sister will do without speaking to her first,” she added desperately.
The shackle fell from her wrist. It was all she could do not to cry in relief as he said, “I’ll teleport you. We’re outside the house, at least—it might even bring him back faster. But stay there,” he added, an edge to his voice.
She nodded.
The teleportation left her gasping when they came out the other end in her back yard. Her charms burned.
“Hit gewayletseth,” he said, or something that sounded like that, his lips brushing her ear. The leaf in his hand puffed to smoke, but what his spell did was not clear. She repeated the spellwords in her head—hit gewayletseth, hit gewayletseth—but couldn’t recall anything like that from Brown’s or other books in Peter’s library.
Then Garrett kissed his way along her jaw. She squeezed her eyes shut, focusing all her strength on not jerking away.
“Remember what I said,” he murmured.“Stay.”
The next moment, he was gone.
Peter stood justshy of the tree line, shattered. He’d been halfway down the hill when he’d seen her—he’d drawn near enough to hear the rumble of Garrett’s voice, definitelyGarrett, he’dknownit was thrice-damned Garrett, and then—disaster. They’d teleported away.
He slumped onto a log, head in his hands, the heat of his town charms fading against his chest.
Then they burned again—once, twice, followed by an undeniablepop. He stiffened. Someone had just landed within feet of him—had jumped, it seemed, from somewhere else in town. Wild hope filled him: Beatrix might not be in Washington after all. She could have talked Garrett into bringing her home, and now the wizard was back to lie in wait for him.
He inched to his feet, trying to figure out where Garrett was and finding no clues. It was like that night in his bedroom all over again, both of them invisible, except this time he absolutely had to get to Beatrix and no longer had a red in his pocket. And instead of carpet, he was surrounded by twigs, undergrowth and all manner of things that would crack or crunch underfoot.
He slipped several leaves out of his pocket, for all the good they would do if Garrett realized where he was. He put the toe of his right boot down in a spot with nothing but grass, then the heel, then his other foot. He waited and listened. The forest was so deathly, horribly quiet. He took another step, walking parallel to the tree line instead of down the path, knowing he would have to get to a safe distance and cut a more difficult route through the woods to Beatrix’s house.
A yard at a time, heart pumping at a dizzying pace, he crept from where he thought Garrett was and wished he could run.
Ella,eating an apple in the kitchen, looked up at her in surprise as she stepped in through the back door. Beatrix almost broke down in front of the hidden camera.
“You’re home early,” Ella said, the unstated question in her eyes:Everything all right?
“I—I don’t feel quite well,” she said.
Ella jumped to her feet. “Let me help you upstairs.”
She helped her all the way up to the third-floor bedroom, where the hidden devices recorded sound only. Beatrix pulled out the notepad they kept in her mother’s nightstand and wrote:Get Lydia and Rosemarie. Emergency.
Ella looked at her for just a second, dread transforming her face, and dashed out. Beatrix, fighting against the overwhelming urge to lie down, grabbed the telephone and dialed Peter’s number. If he answered, she would know he had misunderstood the situation. If he didn’t answer …
He didn’t answer. She gave a silent prayer of thanks and hung up. By the time Ella returned with both women, Beatrix had finished writing down the essence of what had happened—discovered in the act of spellcasting on the job; Garrett demanding Lydia’s immediate resignation, Peter’s arrest and her hand in marriage; Garrett standing guard at the other end of the forest.
The color drained from Lydia’s face as she read it. Rosemarie’s eyes widened and her lips tightened. Ella put a hand over her mouth.
Rosemarie plucked the pen from Beatrix’s hand and added a response:We can’t all stay in this room. Will look suspicious. I’ll go downstairs and think about what to do.
As she watched her go, Beatrix realized that some part of her expected Rosemarie to snap at her about carelessness and offer a clever solution. You could always count on Rosemarie for a clever solution. But Beatrix’s options now were all bad, and there would be no improving upon them.
Lydia took the pen and got as far asI think we shouldwhen Ella grabbed it.B., she wrote,what doyouwant to do?
Garrett’s question about who always looked out for her had a second correct answer, after all. Ella.
Beatrix expected her sister would argue, but she did not. Both women looked at her, waiting for her reply.
