Jessie’s eyes went wide with surprise, but like a true friend she didn’t hesitate, sweeping forward, gathering Christine up in a hug. “Oh no.”
Christine allowed herself several long moments to hang there, staring down the empty hallway, trying to figure out how things had gone sideways so quickly.
“Are you sure he’s not just over-reacting?”
“He is,” she said, explaining what happened.
Jessie sighed. “Men. Go tell him the truth. Show him, Christine. Make him understand.”
“Maybe,” she said, straightening. “It won’t be that easy. He’s...there’s other things going on.” She didn’t want to betray Altair’s confidences, not even now. But she knew that with the hurt he was already feeling, the judgment he assumed everyone was casting on him, it would make it difficult for the hurting dragon shifter to believe her even if she had evidence.
Still.
She slipped free of Jessie’s embrace and darted back into her room, grabbing one last thing.
“Okay,” she said. “I can’t dwell on this right now. We have more important things to do, and a meeting to attend. Once we handle the situation, then we can relax, and I can tell him how dumb he’s being. Maybe.”
Jessie smiled supportively. “Just let me know how I can help.”
The two women started off together, heading for Circe’s office.
It was time to do what they had trained all their lives for.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Christine
THEY RUSHED INTO CIRCE’S office after a quick knock, knowing that they were probably late by this point.
A quick headcount as they approached the desk of Winterspell’s headmaster told her that they were, in fact, the last ones to arrive. Not that she needed to count. The look Circe gave her was all she needed.
It was amazing that a woman who never showed her face could convey so much with sheer body language alone.
“We’re late,” Jessie whispered, earning her a lifted hand from Circe and a roll of the eyes from Christine.
Altair was there, she noticed. He’d positioned himself on the far side of the grouping, as far from the door as possible. It would be far too noticeable if she tried to make her way over to him now.
Which is exactly why he chose that place to stand. So that he can be away from you.
She desperately wanted to go to him, to prove he was misinterpreting things, that his continual search for disdain and contempt from those around him was guiding his thoughts, not rationale. Now wasn’t the time for it though. Circe had begun to speak, and Christine listened. This was serious and she needed all the information she could possess.
Lord Berith was nothing to scoff at. The demon lord would be her toughest challenge yet. Perhaps the toughest of her entire life.
“As I’m sure you have all surmised by now, I haven’t called you here for tea and a talk,” Circe said quietly, guiding them beyond her desk to the giant rift displaying the ocean that sat on the rear wall.
Christine followed the group, gasping in astonishment with the others as the image abruptly changed.
“A team from the Hexe Institute was tracking Lord Berith, who so far has managed to remain hidden from their detection. They got as far as here,” Circe said, gesturing at the rift.
No more ocean waves crested and fell. The background had been replaced with an image of the white cliffs of Dover in England.
Except they were no longer white. One giant section was covered black, the ground around it burnt, as was the cliff side itself. The damage was unmissable. Nor was the size of it, she realized, noting one of the moving dots in the image was a human.
“They pinned Lord Berith against the sea, but the demon managed to escape, killing two of the members sent against it,” Circe said. “The rest of the team is convinced that Lord Berith is heading here.”
“To North America?” Christine said, speaking up.
“No,” Circe said quietly. “To Winterspell.”
The entire response team seemed to frown as one, looking at each other, then at Circe. They were each confused, not understanding.
“But that’s nonsense,” she said quietly, drawing looks of approval from the others.
“What makes them think that?” Altair asked, his gaze fixed on Circe. “And when can we expect him?”
Christine stared at him, hoping he would look over at her at some point, so she could tell him she was sorry, even just mouthing the words—but he steadfastly ignored her.
She needed to talk to him before they went out on a mission. Christine was scared that he was reverting back into his original mindset, the one where he felt he needed to sacrifice himself, to atone for his past sins. She’d thought they were making headway on that. His attitude over the evening had changed as the two of them had opened up to one another, confessing some of their feelings.
But now... Now she wasn’t so sure.
“This is why,” Circe said, interrupting her thoughts as the powerful witch cast another spell.
The vision on the screen paused, then seemed to flow backward. There was an audible gasp as the blackened spot on the cliffs disappeared and was replaced with the towering figure that could only be Lord Berith.
The demon lord was huge. Easily twenty-five feet tall, perhaps closer to thirty, it occupied the entire center of the rift. Fire circled between two horns off the top of its blackened head, the terrifying beast-like face laughing as the witch team from the Hexe Institute deployed into battle with him.
Spells flashed, fire blazed. Berith used a wicked-looking maul size appropriately, swinging it at the various witches, sending some flying, their defensive spells only able to protect them, not deflect the physical force of the blow.
The battle wasn’t going well. The team wasn’t operating as smoothly as she would have liked to see. They were inexperienced, needed more training.
Just like us.
At one point, Berith was pushed back to the edge of the cliffs. The witches appeared to be winning.
“You cannot stop me!” Berith boomed, spewing fire from its mouth, driving the witches back. “Once I have
