Rachel chances a glance at Mercia. “There’s your answer.”
“That’s all good and well, but how do you propose we actually kill the guy?” Mercia asks. “Orion’s already said he’s not strong enough to go head-to-head with Golvath. My powers are limited, too. And, I hate to say this, but you’re only human, Rach.”
Rachel opens her mouth to respond, but before she can utter a word, a door slams shut somewhere inside of the building. She shuts her mouth and grabs the lacrosse stick while her heart rate increases.
Mercia looks over her shoulder, stares into the larger part of the administration’s office. She turns her attention back to Rachel and Orion, concern weighing down the corners of her lips.
Without a word, Orion gracefully moves around the desk, silently stepping over the mess on the floor.
There’s an audible crack as something breaks outside the office. A different set of heavy footfalls move with purpose, growing louder as they near. Next, trainers squeak against the tiles, followed by clothes shifting. A cough sounds farther away. Clamor as something heavy is pushed.
“Come out, come out wherever you are,” an unfamiliar voice calls.
Orion presses his finger against his lips, gesturing for them to remain silent, before he slips into the administration office. He returns a few beats later and motions for them to close in.
She squares her jaw as she quietly walks around the desk.
“I’m going to glisser you into the parking lot, one at a time.” Orion’s whisper is barely a breath. “Clarré, do you have your keys?”
Rachel nods.
“Oh, Rache-e-e-l.” The voice drags her name out. Another door slams shut, something is thrown violently across a space. Laughter echoes.
Orion opens his arms for her and she steps into his embrace, readying herself for the mind-blowing and world-tilting that accompanies this way of transportation.
When nothing happens, she says, “Whenever you’re ready.”
Orion releases her and takes a step back. His frown is prominent as he looks at his raised arms as if they don’t belong to him.
“You okay there?” Mercia asks.
“I can’t glisser,” Orion says. He turns his hands so he can stare at his scarred palms. Faint flames runs up his arms, his magic seems to sputter as it struggles to ignite.
Mercia snaps her fingers and the witch flame dances on her thumbnail. “My magic appears unaff—” Her flame is smothered. “Crap.”
“How?” The worry in his voice turns to confusion as he regards Mercia.
She shakes her head, staring in dumbfounded silence where the fire had been.
When neither of them spring into action, Rachel whispers, “Find a weapon.”
Mercia blinks. “Are you telling me I have to do things the old fashioned way, the human way?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, that sucks,” Mercia grumbles.
She searches the principal’s office for something to defend herself with. Orion looks like someone plucked off his ethereal wings.
“You can’t hide forever,” a female voice calls out, amusement thick in her tone.
With a heavy sigh, Rachel heads back to the principal’s desk and opens the drawers in search of the legendary Big Black Box, which is purportedly full of confiscated items Principal Hodgins has collected from students over the years. Finding nothing of the sort, she quickly turns her attention to the cabinet beneath the window and slides one of the doors open. Behind a stack of paper and some miscellaneous stationary, Rachel finds an open bottle of whiskey and two glasses. In a wrapped copier paper box beside it await all types of confiscated goodies, including cigarettes, vapes, an unholy amount of lighters, knives, a few ancient cell phones and Gameboys, a scratched up hipflask, and plastic toys. She pockets a can of mace she finds beneath an expired packet of Marlboros and picks out a brass knuckle duster.
Rachel holds out the knuckle duster and hisses, “Mercia.”
Mercia picks it up with her fingers and sneers at the offensive object. “I have so many questions right now.”
“Just put it on and hope you don’t have to use it,” Rachel mumbles. She turns back to face the door. Orion, still staring at his ever-fading flames, is in a world of his own. “Orion,” Rachel says a little louder to catch his attention. As he looks up, she hands him the lacrosse stick. “Imagine it’s a sword, Faerie Boy.” Rachel brushes past him, pulls the pepper spray out of her back pocket, and holds it steadily in her hand.
“Try not to spray us if you use it.” Orion’s warm breath touches the back of her neck.
“I can’t make any promises.”
He flashes her a grin as he steps ahead and peers around the door. He looks left then right, before returning to his original position.
“Where’s the nearest exit?” he asks.
“Main door?” Mercia says, sounding unsure.
“Nuh huh, I’ve seen that movie and it didn’t end well,” Rachel says. “Let’s maybe first try a window before we do anything stupid and get ourselves killed.”
“You don’t honestly think it’ll be that easy, do you?”
Rachel shrugs. “Won’t hurt to try,” she says, walking over to the nearest window, which overlooks the courtyard. She strains to open it. When it doesn’t budge, she makes her way back to the others.
“Well, you called it,” she whispers. “We could try the old schoolhouse’s exit?”
“You want to go past the boiler room?” Mercia hisses.
“Would you rather face a horde of homicidal townies?” Rachel snaps back in a low voice. “These are people we know, and although they’re innocent in all of this, at the end of the day we may have to hurt them to save ourselves.”
Mercia considers this before she answers with a curt, albeit reluctant nod.
“Gotcha,” the first unfamiliar voice shouts. A deafening crash resounds through the school, putting everyone on edge. “Damn it.”
“One
