Hexbound (The Dark Elite 2)

“What?”

“Take a step back.”

We did as she asked, and just in time. Without any more warning, Lesley twisted on one heel and kicked so high she would have knocked the ring out of Scout’s nose if she’d been standing any closer.

Scout’s jaw dropped; mine did, too.

“How—where?”

“I’m a black belt.”

Scout extended a hand. “You are so in. Welcome to the community.”

Lesley waved her off. “First things first. What do we do about this—stuff?”

“The trail ends at the corridor,” I pointed out, “so it looks like they didn’t get any farther than that. Maybe they peeked in, didn’t find what they wanted, and left again.”

“That’s something,” Scout said. “First of all, let’s get some help.” She pulled out her phone. “I’m going to tell Daniel what’s up. He’ll have to come through and reward the doors since they found a way to break through our spell. And we’re probably going to have to clean up the slime.”

Lesley raised her hand. “Could we lead the brat pack down here first?”

Scout gave her a pat on the back. “You’re good people, Barnaby.”

Things I didn’t sign up for when I hopped the plane to O’Hare to attend St. Sophia’s School for Girls: firespell; werewolves (but still lucked out there); brat packers; Reapers; snarky Varsity Adepts.

And slime. Lots of slime that had to be mopped up by Lesley, Scout, and me. ’Cause what else would a sixteen-year-old girl rather be doing than mopping goo off a basement floor?

But we had to erase the evidence. Someone else finding the trail would only lead to questions Scout didn’t want to answer. Besides—if we had to come back down to battle anyone, it was a safety hazard. The stuff was really slippery.

We’d found a rolling bucket and mop in a janitor’s closet a few corridors away and pushed it down to the slimy corridor. Scout and I swabbed down the slime, and Lesley used an old towel to dry down the floor.

It took twenty minutes to clean it all up, but when we were done you could hardly tell it had been the sight of paranormal activity.

Scout put her hands on her hips and surveyed our work. “Well, I think it looks pretty fabulous.”

“At least it doesn’t look like the room got slimed. What’s next?”

Scout looked at Lesley. “Can you head back upstairs?” Before Lesley could protest at the slight, Scout held up a hand. “I don’t mean back to the suite. I mean stand guard upstairs. It’s unlikely anyone would find their way down here, but stranger things have happened.” When she gave me a pointed look, I stuck my tongue out at her. Not that she was wrong.

“Can you keep an eye on the basement door and make sure we have time to get it closed down again?”

With a salute, but without a word, Lesley headed down the corridor.

Scout watched her walk away. “Okay, is it wrong that I really like the fact that she saluted me?”

“It probably means that you’re destined to be Varsity so you can have JV Adepts at your beck and call.”

“Do you really think I’d have them at my beck and call?”

Scout had once told me that she wanted to run for office one day. Given the sound of her voice, I had a sense she wanted to head up Enclave Three one day, as well.

“Well, as much as you’re at Katie’s and Smith’s beck and call.”

“I’m not at Katie’s and Smith’s anything. Wait—what is a beck and call exactly?”

“I think that’s when you do their bidding whenever they want.”

She grimaced. “I guess I am that, then. All for one and one for all, and all that.” Her phone beeped, and Scout pulled it out of her bag again.

“Daniel’s on his way. Should be here in fifteen.”

“So we’re camping out in the basement again?”

She blew out a breath, then crossed her legs and sat down on the stone floor. “I don’t suppose you brought any cards?”

Daniel’s estimate had been a little low. It actually took him twenty minutes to get to us. He came in through the vault door, huffing like he’d run all the way through the tunnels.

“Sorry. Got here as fast as I could.” He put his hands on his hips. He wore jeans and a smoky orange T-shirt beneath a thin jacket. He glanced through the corridor. “You got the mess cleaned up.”

“Indeedy-o.”

“How much? I mean, how far into the building did they go?”

Scout showed him where the trail had led. “They didn’t get far,” she concluded. “Although I’m not entirely sure why.”

Daniel frowned, then paced to the end of the corridor and back again. “First the girls, now the rats and maybe the girls,” he said. “They keep returning to St. Sophia’s. But why?”

“Same reason they pinched Scout?” I offered. “They want her Grimoire?”

He seemed to think about that for a minute, then nodded. “That’s the best theory we have right now. Let’s assume that’s true and build our defenses accordingly.” He walked back to the door, then began looking it over. “The wards didn’t hold, huh?”

Scout shook her head. “Not even. Can you work it so they’re permanent? Like, they’d let Lily and me get through, but not anyone or anything else?”

Daniel pressed a hand to the door and closed his eyes in concentration. “Yeah, I could probably work that.”

It looked like he was getting started, but I still had a question. “Aren’t we going to go after them, or at least see how far they got? I mean, we can’t just let the rats run loose in the tunnels.”

He glanced back, only one eye open. “All the Adepts are accounted for, tucked safe and sound into their beds, with the exception of you two.” He didn’t say “trouble-makers,” but I could hear it in his voice. “So there’s no immediate risk. Not enough that would justify sending you out on a hunting mission.”

I couldn’t argue with that logic.

While Daniel prepared to fire up his ward, Scout sent a message to Lesley to let her know that her work was done for the night, and that we’d be up as soon as Daniel was done.

His method of magic was quite a bit different from Scout’s . . . or anything else that I’d seen. She’d said he was a protector. Maybe they had their own special brand of mojo. After he’d communed with the door, he pulled a short, cork-stoppered clear bottle from his jacket pocket and held it up to the light, checking it out. A white cloud swirled inside it, like he’d bottled a tiny tornado.