I sucked in a deep breath and stepped into the pants. “You didn’t happen to bring in a can of Pam, did you?”
It took a tremendous amount of pleading, squirming and bending myself into angles that I’m not wholly proud of, but the leather pants were on. The top was, too, mostly, and now Nina was behind me working on the complicated lace-up detailing. I looked at myself in the mirror.
I wore slick black leather in my mind. I wielded a sword, kicked serious ass, and did it all without mussing my mid-back-length flowing red hair. Tonight, my legs looked a mile long in the leather boot-leather pant combination and a little pouch of chocolate pinwheel belly bubbled over the waistband. Nina had hoisted my boobs to my chin with the little strap-up apparatus and my cheeks were flushed—not exactly with the strength and confidence of a superhero—more like the angst of squeezing into the getup. But still, I looked reasonably badassed even if my hair was neither mid-back-length nor flowy.
“Okay,” I said.
Nina hiked up her shoulder bag. “I’m coming with you.”
I put a hand on her shoulder and shook my head. “I’m not letting anyone else get involved or get hurt. I can do this.”
She silently handed me her keys.
I slammed myself into Nina’s car and gunned the engine. I was midway to Battery Townsley when a call came in from Vlad.
“Vlad?” I screamed into the phone. “Vlad, Nina is worried sick about you. Where are you?”
But Vlad didn’t respond. Instead, there was some muffled speech, a high-pitched scream, and the thunk of something being hit. I pressed the phone against my ear, listening for some clue—until I heard the cry.
Desperate. Terrified. Young.
I slammed my foot onto the gas pedal, pressing it as far down as it would go. After a full block, the light turned red in front of me and I slammed on the brakes, tapping my fingers on the steering wheel.
“Come on, come on, come on,” I huffed to the sleek black interior. “Ugh!” After what seemed like hours in idle, I clicked on the radio.
“This is Heather Idello reporting from Battery Townsley where Mercy High School janitor Budd Hastings seems to have taken his own life. Further down the bluff, police encountered fifteen-year-old Alyssa Rand. The teen has been missing for five days and appeared out of nowhere. Police Chief Conway will be releasing more information at a press conference on the hour.”
I snapped the radio back off and made a squealing U-turn the second the light turned. Whatever Heddy was going to do tonight, she wasn’t going to do it at the Battery.
“Okay, okay, okay,” I said to the steering wheel. “If Battery Townsley was just a dump site, where would Heddy take her sacrifices?”
I snapped my fingers as the dozens of illuminated pentagrams burned in my mind. I barely had a moment to catch my breath before I was pulling in to Mercy High.
The building was bleak, the parking lot deserted save for one dented Rambler parked in the back corner. I didn’t have to move closer to know that the car was Janitor Bud’s—and likely the one Nina had seen Miranda disappear into. My heart lurched into my throat, but I steeled myself, sinking my administrator’s key into the lock before it occurred to me that I was approaching a powerful, murderous witch, weaponless. I hesitated there for a quick second—but when I heard a scream—high-pitched, tortured, I pushed through the doors, thundering through the darkened hallway.
“Kayleigh! Miranda!” I screamed.
“Ms. L?”
Miranda turned out of a darkened alcove. Her eyes were wide and glassy.
“Oh, God, Miranda, I’m so glad I found you. We have to get you out of here.”
I yanked my cell phone out of my bustier—the only place I could fit it—and speed-dialed Will.
“No,” Miranda said. “You’ve got to help me. We’ve got to save Kayleigh. She’s up there!” She grabbed my hand and stepped up, yanking me to her. “Come on!”
“Miranda—your hand—your arm. You’re covered in blood!”
She glanced down at me one more time, her eyes pleading. “Please, there isn’t much time!”
I shoved my phone back into my bust just as I heard Will’s muffled. “Hello? Hello? Sophie?”
I was halfway up the stairs when I heard the sound of crushing metal behind me. Someone was kicking and growling and screaming. I took a step backward and Miranda ran behind me, pressing her palms against my back.
“No, upstairs!”
I held her off. “Miranda, what is that?”
“Please Ms. Lawson! We’ve got to get to Kayleigh!”
The desperate terror in Miranda’s eyes clawed at my chest and I took the steps two at a time until I was on the second landing. The hall should have been dark, but a blinding yellow light was bleeding through the cracks in the art room door. I went for the handle, then burst back, my hand singed.