“Headmistress, will you make our excuses? And send my sisters to follow? Time is of the essence.”
Magdalene gave them a curious glance, one that said more than her words did.
“Of course. Please be well, Ms. Allende. I’ll deliver your apologies. And congratulations again.”
Ceridwen’s arms were surprisingly strong as she all but dragged Paloma down the hallway and out the side door toward the small parking lot. The night was heavy, despite a clear sky, alight with stars. Paloma felt like the air had spikes, tearing her throat with every breath she took.
Once they cleared the building, Ceridwen pushed her in the direction of the parking lot. After a quick look around, she linked their fingers and murmured a quiet incantation. Paloma could hear the words mingling with her own exhalations.
“Come, Earth, give her strength, hold her safe…”
Paloma blinked, and suddenly her skin had life in it, her breathing no longer painful.
“What’s wrong? Nox sent us outside. What’s going on?” Seren was the first to reach them, her dress shoes giving her an advantage over Rhiannon’s stiletto Louboutins. But it was Rhiannon who took one look at what was happening and joined her hands over Ceridwen’s.
“Come, Wind, bring her comfort, hold her safe.”
Seren’s face was emotionless when she laid her palms over Rhiannon’s, but her eyes were an azure storm as she whispered.
“Come, Water, wash her pain, hold her safe.”
They breathed in unison for a few heartbeats, and Paloma could feel her body respond to the comforting magic. She swayed with it, the blanket of peace covering her, securing her.
“We need to go. Rhy, where’s your car? This can only be one thing.” Ceridwen’s voice was tinged with a note of desperate urgency.
Rhiannon pushed the fob button, and a few steps away, the dark Porsche answered the call.
Paloma saw little of their journey. Ceridwen held her hand in the back seat. But her heart hammered double-time in her chest.
With warmth returning to her body, she could finally trust her brain to process what was happening.
Deryn. Deryn is in trouble.
She could no longer feel Deryn, the flame they had lit now the stab of a spike of ice in her palm. She nearly expected it to bleed.
Ceridwen’s thumb kept rubbing at it.
“She will be fine. I promise.”
“You can’t promise that, Ceridwen. You heard that bitch Dagmar at the New Year’s Ball. So you can’t promise anything—” Paloma hated how weak she sounded, how terrified.
“She can,” Rhiannon threw over her shoulder as she broke every driving law in the state. Paloma did not even consider that the car could go this fast, and she had a similar model. “She’s Ceridwen Crowhart. Dagmar or no Dagmar, Ceridwen can do anything.” Rhiannon’s voice was full of conviction, a soul-deep certainty.
When Seren’s jaw dropped, and Ceridwen’s fingers spasmed in Paloma’s hand, she knew something monumental had happened.
“The Tavern, right? I’m driving to the Tavern?” Rhiannon did not stop at the red light at the crossroads that took them into town.
“Right.” Ceridwen’s answer was more a puff of air than a word, her face still shocked. But her fingers returned to making circles in Paloma’s palm, the magic keeping Paloma warm.
When they heard sirens behind them, Seren winced.
“Trust these assholes to be actually patrolling tonight of all nights.”
“Sheriff Redding issued orders, in light of the break-ins, to double traffic patrols,” Ceridwen spoke matter-of-factly.
“Fuck Redding. Like he has done anything effective or helpful to figure out this whole damn situation or to keep anyone safe!” Rhiannon pressed the accelerator again, and the little Porsche left the patrol car in the dust, salt, and snow.
“Do you really want Redding involved in this business?” Ceridwen was remarkably calm, given that Rhiannon was probably breaking the speed of light at this point. Seren’s grip on the door handle was nothing short of deathly, her knuckles turning from white to pale blue.
