I tilt my chin to get a better view of his face. “As in Locklear?”
Rafe swallows and dips his chin in a nod. “Does the school have a basement?”
Haya clicks her mouse a few times, then says, “If it does, it’s not in the blueprints. Or at least not in these schematics. I can do some more research, though I’m not particularly well versed in reading that kind of thing.”
“Is it even possible to trap the Twisted somewhere?” I ask. “They seem a little hard to, uh, corral.”
“Xers can do it.” Landon’s upper lip curls in a sneer.
I knead my brows but bite back the snark I want to spit out on him. “Care to expound?”
He runs a hand over his face. “I guess that’s not exactly fair. All witches with medium abilities can direct ghosts with their own unique magic. Something it sounds like you learned on your visit to Blacksburg.”
Swallowing, I think back to the confrontation with the Xers in the woods, how our spells collided and countered each other. “It’s some pretty wicked stuff. Really powerful. It makes sense that if they can trap ghosts in objects, they could also direct them somewhere.”
“They can.” Landon nods. “It’s really just like any other kind of witch magic, but is kind of more...specified, I guess. Only mediums can spell Locklear so we can touch things in the realm of the living. When it comes to directing the Twisted, most of them spell an object that, as far as I can tell, acts like an opposing magnet so it doesn’t get close to you. Kaz uses a staff.”
I remember the night of the party and the last look I got at our friendly neighborhood Ghost Guide when he faced off with the two Twisted students. That explained the glowing stick thing I saw him swinging around. Also, that would have been a super handy thing for the rest of us to carry around to avoid getting sucked into the vortex or whatever. But this also begs another question.
“If they can direct them, does that mean they can trap them too?” I ask.
Landon shrugs. “Honestly, I have no idea. But I don’t see why not if they can trap normal ghosts.”
I rub my temples with the heels of my hands. “Maybe it’s time we have an honest conversation with Kaz. I need to talk to him about our trip to Blacksburg anyway.” Tilting my eyes up to a still very pale Rafe, I offer him a small smile. “Want to come with?”
His dimple pops up. “I don’t know. The last mission we went on together was kind of a disaster.” He winks and I smack his arm.
“I submit that was not our fault. Plus, we handled it pretty well all things considered. Even if we did get shot.”
“Fair point. I’m in.”
“While you two do that, I can help Haya look into the blueprints,” Yasmin says. “Let’s figure out where all these messed up ghosties are going!”
Before Rafe and I try to hunt down our Ghost Guide, we drift to a boulder a little ways into the woods. Though we spoke a bit in the healing ward, neither of us have really had time to debrief, to process together what happened in Blacksburg. Stars beam down from a clear sky overhead and a gentle breeze nudges the pine trees together. They sway like lazy dancers in the dim light, their limbs brushing each other softly as Rafe and I sit.
We watch them in silence and I’m willing to let it drag as long as necessary. Though Blacksburg definitely sucked for me, the events were extremely personal for Rafe. As antsy as it makes me to wait — patience is a virtue I do not naturally have — I need to let him set the pace of this conversation.
I have to cross my legs to keep from bouncing a knee, but finally Rafe breaks the quiet. “I’m so sorry I got you shot.”
A laugh mainly based on shock bursts out of my mouth. “Are you kidding? That wasn’t your fault. I’m sorry you got hit twice protecting me, and that we didn’t find your sister. Or your grave. This is the weirdest apology I’ve ever been a part of.”
Rafe snorts.
Chewing my lower lip, I slide my hand along his back, again remembering his mom’s claws scraping down it. The muscles in his shoulders ball together with tension. I’m still a little amazed at how strong they feel under my touch. His lanky form definitely fools the eye.
Rafe lets his head dip forward a little. “I can’t believe what a waste of time that was.”
“I’m not so sure about that.”
He huffs a quiet laugh. “I didn’t accomplish anything. And we both got shot. Not sure any of that qualifies as success.”
I run my hand back and forth between his shoulder blades a few more times, sorting through my words carefully. The discussion I overheard between Mr. Qureshi and Ms. Alvarez echoes back to me again. If Rafe’s still too messed up from his experience at Blakemore to even sense where he needs to go next, then he was kind of set up for failure. Based on what the Headmaster said, I don’t think it was intentional, rather that they hoped things would work out.
None of that information is going to help him at the moment though. So I come up with something a little more positive. “Maybe it was part of the process. Like you had to go back and face your mom before you can find Paige.”
Rafe purses his lips. “So I have to deal with my mommy issues first? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Maybe? I mean, all kinds of trauma can slow us down, right?”
With a laugh, Rafe rubs his eyes with a forefinger and thumb. “Guess that means I’ll have
