Now it’s my turn to play the game.
“Huh?” I put on a confused expression. “What…what am I doing in this car?” I blink my eyes several times for good measure. “Where have I been?”
François grins. “Ah, ma petite, you remember the All-’allows Ball last night? You passed out in all the furor…”
Looking forward, I see Cosmo’s jaw clench. “Yeah, you were…sent to recover with a load of other guests at a nearby hotel,” he adds.
Wes says nothing, just keeps looking firmly ahead.
Gods. Keeping up the charade is going to take everything we have.
“Drop her at Defectivum first,” Cosmo orders.
I lean forward, looking around the campus. It’s quiet, not a soul to be seen. “Where is everyone?”
“Curfew,” François replies as the towncar stops outside my dorms. “A new precaution for a new age. Rest well, Théodora. I’m sure we’ll all see you again soon.”
I stumble out onto the gravel and feel three sets of eyes on me as I move wearily towards the Defectivum entrance.
Before pulling open the old wooden door, I give the town car occupants a quick glance.
François smirks.
Wes is impassive.
And Cosmo looks like he’s going to kill someone.
???
As I make my way across the Defectivum foyer, the dust and mildew scent is, in my present state, actually comforting.
Smells safe.
Smells like home.
"Theo?”
I jump as Ginger Teresa calls my name.
She’s leaning next to the noticeboard, staring at me as though she’s seen a ghost.
“What were you doing outside? There’s a curfew,” she whispers, looking around nervously. “No one is allowed out. You’ll get in trouble.”
“Um, yeah. I just got back from Havengard.”
Her eyes open even wider. “Just now? Were you injured?”
I’m about to reassure her, when her guy, Scott Samson, steps out of the Defectivum mail room, a couple of envelopes in hand. “Hey, Theo.”
“She just got back from Havengard,” Teresa tells him. “Like, just now.”
“Shit! What happened to you?”
That’s when I remember I’m an ‘amnesiac’.
In this new fucked-up world, I have no idea who is a Conclave spy, so my circle of trust is going to beverylimited. “Honestly, I don’t remember,” I reply, giving a shrug. “I think I hit my head during all the mayhem, and now the last twenty four hours are super foggy. You were at the ball, right? Did you get out OK?”
The two look at each other, link hands, then nod. “We did, but it was close,” Teresa says. “Can you believe what happened?”
