I remembered what Scout had told me about their long, exhausting summer. I guessed ornery, magic-wielding teenagers could do that to a girl.
“They have given chase a lot lately,” Jason said. “We’re all thinking they must be up to something.”
The room got quiet, the three of them, maybe contemplating just what the Reapers might be up to. Then they looked at me expectantly, maybe waiting for a reaction—tears or disbelief or enthusiasm. But I still had questions.
“Do you look forward to it?” I asked.
Scout tilted her head. “To what?”
“To giving up your powers?” I uncrossed my legs and buried my toes in the blanket—this place was as frosty as St. Sophia’s. “I mean, you’ve got costs and benefits either way, right? Right now, you all have some kind of power. You hit puberty, and you get used to being all magically inclined, but then you have to give it up. Doesn’t that bother you?”
They exchanged glances. “It’s the way it is,” Scout quietly said. “Magic is part of who we are now, but it won’t be part of us forever.”
“But neither will midnight meetings and obnoxious Reapers and power-happy Varsity Adepts.”
Scout lifted her eyebrows at Jason’s mini-tirade.
“I know,” Jason said. “Not the time.”
I guessed things weren’t entirely hunky-dory in Enclave Three. “So the guy that blasted me, or whatever. You said his name was Sebastian. And he’s a Reaper.”
Scout nodded. “That’s him.”
“He said something before he blasted me. What was that?”
“Ad meloria,” Michael said. “It’s Latin. Means ‘toward better things.’ ”
I raised my eyebrows. “I’m guessing that’s their motto.”
“You’d be right,” Scout said. “They think the world would be a better place if they kept their magic. They think they’re the elite, and everyone should give them their due. A survival of the fittest kind of thing.”
“Survival of the craziest, more like,” Jason muttered. He glanced down at his watch, then looked up at Michael. “We probably need to head,” he said, then glanced at me. “Sorry to leave you in here. We’ve got some stuff at MA this afternoon.”
“No problem. Thanks for coming by. And thanks for the flower.”
He stuck his hands into his pockets and grinned back at me. “No problem, Parker. Glad you’ve rejoined the land of the living.”
I grinned back at him, at least until Scout’s throat clearing pulled my attention away.
“I should also head back,” she said, pulling a massive, baffled down jacket off the back of her chair. She squeezed into it, then fastened the clips that held it together. The white jacket went past her knees, which made it look like she had on nothing but tights and thick-soled Dr. Martens Mary Janes beneath it.
“You look like the Pillsbury Snow Boy.”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s breezy out there today. Not all of us have these warm, lush accommodations to look forward to.”
I snuggled into the bed, thinking I’d better gather what warmth I could, given the possibility that I’d be returning to my meat locker of a room tomorrow.
“Take care,” Michael said, rapping his knuckles on the tray at the end of the bed. I assumed that was the macho-guy equivalent of giving me a hug. Either way, I appreciated the gesture.
I smiled back at him. “I’m sure I’ll see you soon.”
“And hopefully under better circumstances.” He cast Scout a sideways glance. “Green.”
She rolled her eyes. “Garcia.” When she looked at me again, she was smiling. “I’ll give you a call later.”
I nodded.
The trio gathered up their things, and I clenched my fingers, itching to ask one final question. Well, scared to ask it, anyway. My palms were actually sweating, but I made myself get it out.
“Jason.”
They all turned back at the sound of his name.
He arched his eyebrows. “Yeah?”
“Could I talk to you for a sec?”
“Um, sure.” He shouldered his backpack, then exchanged a glance with Scout and Michael. She winged up her brows, but let Garcia push her toward and out the door.
When the door shut behind them, Jason glanced back at me. “Everything okay?”
“Oh, yeah.” I frowned down at the blanket for a minute before finally raising my gaze to his crystal blue eyes. “Listen, I just wanted to say thanks. For getting me out of the basement, I mean. If it hadn’t been for you and Scout—”
“You wouldn’t have gotten hit in the first place,” he finished.
I opened my mouth, then closed it again, not really able to argue that point.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” he softly said. “And for what it’s worth, you’re welcome, Lily.”
I liked the way he said my name, as if it weren’t just a series of letters, but a word thick with meaning. Lily.
“I mean, I’m not glad you got wrapped up in this—especially since you don’t have magic to defend yourself with.” He tipped his head to the side. “Although, I think I heard something about a flip-flop?”
“I guess Scout’s been giving up all my offensive moves?”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “And impressive moves they are. I mean, who’d have thought that a few square inches of foam were really a technologically advanced—”
“They have given chase a lot lately,” Jason said. “We’re all thinking they must be up to something.”
The room got quiet, the three of them, maybe contemplating just what the Reapers might be up to. Then they looked at me expectantly, maybe waiting for a reaction—tears or disbelief or enthusiasm. But I still had questions.
“Do you look forward to it?” I asked.
Scout tilted her head. “To what?”
“To giving up your powers?” I uncrossed my legs and buried my toes in the blanket—this place was as frosty as St. Sophia’s. “I mean, you’ve got costs and benefits either way, right? Right now, you all have some kind of power. You hit puberty, and you get used to being all magically inclined, but then you have to give it up. Doesn’t that bother you?”
They exchanged glances. “It’s the way it is,” Scout quietly said. “Magic is part of who we are now, but it won’t be part of us forever.”
“But neither will midnight meetings and obnoxious Reapers and power-happy Varsity Adepts.”
Scout lifted her eyebrows at Jason’s mini-tirade.
“I know,” Jason said. “Not the time.”
I guessed things weren’t entirely hunky-dory in Enclave Three. “So the guy that blasted me, or whatever. You said his name was Sebastian. And he’s a Reaper.”
Scout nodded. “That’s him.”
“He said something before he blasted me. What was that?”
“Ad meloria,” Michael said. “It’s Latin. Means ‘toward better things.’ ”
I raised my eyebrows. “I’m guessing that’s their motto.”
“You’d be right,” Scout said. “They think the world would be a better place if they kept their magic. They think they’re the elite, and everyone should give them their due. A survival of the fittest kind of thing.”
“Survival of the craziest, more like,” Jason muttered. He glanced down at his watch, then looked up at Michael. “We probably need to head,” he said, then glanced at me. “Sorry to leave you in here. We’ve got some stuff at MA this afternoon.”
“No problem. Thanks for coming by. And thanks for the flower.”
He stuck his hands into his pockets and grinned back at me. “No problem, Parker. Glad you’ve rejoined the land of the living.”
I grinned back at him, at least until Scout’s throat clearing pulled my attention away.
“I should also head back,” she said, pulling a massive, baffled down jacket off the back of her chair. She squeezed into it, then fastened the clips that held it together. The white jacket went past her knees, which made it look like she had on nothing but tights and thick-soled Dr. Martens Mary Janes beneath it.
“You look like the Pillsbury Snow Boy.”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s breezy out there today. Not all of us have these warm, lush accommodations to look forward to.”
I snuggled into the bed, thinking I’d better gather what warmth I could, given the possibility that I’d be returning to my meat locker of a room tomorrow.
“Take care,” Michael said, rapping his knuckles on the tray at the end of the bed. I assumed that was the macho-guy equivalent of giving me a hug. Either way, I appreciated the gesture.
I smiled back at him. “I’m sure I’ll see you soon.”
“And hopefully under better circumstances.” He cast Scout a sideways glance. “Green.”
She rolled her eyes. “Garcia.” When she looked at me again, she was smiling. “I’ll give you a call later.”
I nodded.
The trio gathered up their things, and I clenched my fingers, itching to ask one final question. Well, scared to ask it, anyway. My palms were actually sweating, but I made myself get it out.
“Jason.”
They all turned back at the sound of his name.
He arched his eyebrows. “Yeah?”
“Could I talk to you for a sec?”
“Um, sure.” He shouldered his backpack, then exchanged a glance with Scout and Michael. She winged up her brows, but let Garcia push her toward and out the door.
When the door shut behind them, Jason glanced back at me. “Everything okay?”
“Oh, yeah.” I frowned down at the blanket for a minute before finally raising my gaze to his crystal blue eyes. “Listen, I just wanted to say thanks. For getting me out of the basement, I mean. If it hadn’t been for you and Scout—”
“You wouldn’t have gotten hit in the first place,” he finished.
I opened my mouth, then closed it again, not really able to argue that point.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” he softly said. “And for what it’s worth, you’re welcome, Lily.”
I liked the way he said my name, as if it weren’t just a series of letters, but a word thick with meaning. Lily.
“I mean, I’m not glad you got wrapped up in this—especially since you don’t have magic to defend yourself with.” He tipped his head to the side. “Although, I think I heard something about a flip-flop?”
“I guess Scout’s been giving up all my offensive moves?”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “And impressive moves they are. I mean, who’d have thought that a few square inches of foam were really a technologically advanced—”
