Mostly, I felt relief. This was it.
This had to have been it.
Well past midnight, Neven and I landed outside the clinic. The other Hazels had gathered to keep an eye on Alpha and wait for me to join them, allowing Mr. Ávila to finally look after my leg. A cut several inches long ran across my calf, ragged but shallow. Mr. Ávila administered stitches, painkillers, and a stern warning to take it easy.
I promised him that I would—now that the trolls were gone, I could—and asked to see Alpha.
“She’s so still,” I said. The two of us stood in the doorway of the treatment room. It looked almost cozy. Plastic plants in flowerpots. A poster with exercise tips on the inside of the door. The wallpaper was a warm yellow, the floor a geometric pattern that matched the blanket covering Alpha.
Alpha herself lay pale and unmoving in the center of the room. Her face was blank. Not twisted from wariness or rage or panic—the only way I’d seen her so far. Just blank. The IV hooked up to her hand kept her that way.
“Weird to see her like that, isn’t it?” Four quietly came up by my side. “Or see us like that, I guess.”
“But she’s OK?” I asked.
“She’s fine,” Mr. Ávila assured me. “The tranquilizer Dr. Torrance supplied is low impact. The moment it’s safe to wake her up, it’s just a matter of removing the IV. It’ll only take minutes for her eyes to open, and she’ll be back to normal within the hour. I’m keeping a close watch on her in the meantime. Now, if you’ll excuse me—I need to get a hold of Dr. Torrance.”
As far as I knew, Torrance was outside Damford by the upturned truck, helping the sheriff coordinate safe cleanup of the troll remains.
“Your sisters are in the waiting room, I believe,” Mr. Ávila said.
The two of us reluctantly stepped back into the hall. Mr. Ávila drew the door shut.
I tore my eyes away, turning toward the waiting room at the entrance of the clinic. “About Dr. Torrance . . .,” I started.
“She seemed fine to me,” Four said. “Not, um, murderous or anything. We didn’t leave her alone with Alpha until we confirmed the coma was affecting the trolls like we hoped. Dr. Torrance didn’t seem to mind.” She hesitated. “She was even cool about hiding Tara’s involvement from her dad.”
We crossed the linoleum hallway. Health posters and abstract paintings decorated the walls. The clinic seemed empty aside from the other Hazels and Mr. Ávila; it hadn’t been safe to enter before. Its backyard stretched into the woods, making it vulnerable to trolls. Most people injured over the past few days had either been treated in the library or gotten rushed to a proper hospital.
“. . . near the airport a minute ago. Damn it.” Red looked up from her phone as Four and I entered the waiting room. Rainbow sat beside her, both on plush blue chairs. The lighting in this place was so bright it felt like the middle of the day, which was all the more unsettling with the midnight sky visible through the window.
“How’s your leg?” Red said.
“All stitched up. What’s with the airport?” I dreaded the answer.
“The rift just reopened at an elementary school a couple miles from there.” Red held up the phone, revealing a photo of a playground. Twenty feet over the rubber tiles, the rift distorted the air. The front end of a hyperrealistic cow sculpture stuck out from its center, lit only by the surrounding streetlights. “The rift had bounced around in New Jersey for a bit. It’s back over the Delaware River now.”
“I don’t understand why it hasn’t closed.” Rainbow shook her head. “Most of the trolls are dead, and the few left aren’t any threat. We completed our mission. Destiny. Whatever. Right? Or are we supposed to tromp through every inch of the Pennsylvania Wilds to weed them out?”
“Maybe you were supposed to cut up more helicopters,” Four said.
I tried to smile. “I asked Neven earlier about how long it might take. She said rifts aren’t programmed to close straightaway. There’s a delay.” After all, the Power might need time to wrap up loose threads or prepare a proper happy ending. It could take one minute, or it could take ten. For complicated missions, it could even take an hour.
It had now been several.
I’d wanted to be mature and patient. As little as I knew about saving the world, it probably didn’t involve raising your hand to ask, “Did I do it yet? How about now? How about now? Is it saved yet?”
If we were missing something, though, we had to know.
The other Hazels—Rainbow and Red seated, Four lingering nearby—were all looking at me, as though expecting a decision. They still thought I was in charge. I wanted to argue, but how did you argue with something no one had actually said aloud? It’d sound so arrogant.
I sighed in defeat. “Let’s talk to Neven.”
We grabbed our coats and headed out the door, shoulders hunched against the cold, and almost bumped into Tara. A pickup truck was just driving off; someone must’ve given her a lift.
“I was wondering about you guys.” She was so short she had to crane her neck to look at us properly. It was kind of cute, especially with her puffy green winter coat. “Where are you headed?”
“To talk to Neven,” Red said. “We have . . . questions.”
Rainbow chimed in. “Neven’s the dragon. You saw her earlier, right? Grouchy, size of an SUV. Can’t miss her.”
“Only from a distance. She talks?”
“Yup. Usually to tell us how much we’re screwing up.” Rainbow grinned, but her mirth seemed to fade when Tara didn’t respond. “Um. Hey, want to come meet her?”
“Really?” Tara blinked owlishly.
So did I. We were treating conversations with Neven as show-and-tell sessions now? I couldn’t exactly tell
