No blood. No broken bones. He doesn’t appear to be breathing, though. And the air here still twitches and trembles with magic. Recent.
Nova.
Devon crouches next to the student, hand on his neck, to tell me what I already suspected. “Yeah, he’s dead.”
Damnit. Another Nova victim. I frown. “But he’s not a husk.” Why not? She needs to feed every bit as much as the two of us do at the moment. Why, for lack of a better comparison, take a bite of a burger and toss the rest aside?
“Jo.” Devon points at something back the way we came.
I step out of the glare of our headlights to see.
Tire tracks swoop up onto the curb and through the grass, before vanishing back into the street. Right about where the victim was cast aside.
“She stole a car?” I ask, incredulous.
If she’s on her way out of town, that would solve a lot of our problems. I mean, not forever. She would still be out there, causing chaos and trauma somewhere. But even a temporary break would be a nice change of pace, a chance to catch our breath and figure out what to do next.
Somehow I doubt we’re going to be that lucky. She’s up to something, I just don’t know what yet.
“Okay,” I begin. “Let’s just stick with the plan. Go to Branwick, change clothes, get you fed and keep an eye out for—”
It takes me an extra moment to identify the low rhythmic hum that interrupts. A phone. The cheap replacement one Devon bought for me. It’s tucked in a pocket in my borrowed jacket and ringing.
I fumble through several pockets inside and out before I find the right one.
Chessa’s name and number flash on the phone screen.
Turning away from Devon and the van, I answer the call. “Chessa? Is everything okay?”
For a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of rustling fabric and unfamiliar clattering.
“Hello?” I try again, pressing my finger against my other ear to block out the wind noise.
“Listen to me, you don’t have to do that.” Chessa’s voice is muffled and distant, as if the phone is too far away from her mouth. “No! No. Thisisa phone. I can just… no, no wait.” Tension sings in her voice as she works to stay calm.
Dread bores a hole in my stomach. “Chessa? What’s going on? Are you at the hospital?”
“I can just call her. Yes, it’s a phone. I promise!” Her voice becomes clearer. “I know it doesn’t look like… it doesn’t need acord. That’s not a… You don’t have to… stop!” Chessa’s scream tears through the phone and into me, like the jagged edges of a saw blade.
“Chessa!” I shout. But the phone is beeping now, indicating a disconnected call. “Fuck!”
“What’s wrong?” Devon asks, coming around the van to join me.
“I think Nova’s at the hospital,” I say grimly. I guess that explains why she stole a car. Iknewshe was close by. She must have overheard the talk about Morales taking Chessa to the hospital. Or assumed that would be the next stop for the fragile human whose arm she just broke.
Even as someone raised outside the world of the Old Ones, I can see the strategy in this move. It’s smart. Smarter than just choosing a random half-empty building on campus. Lots of potential innocent victims in a hospital for feeding or hostages, including Chessa, who is clearly important to me.
It’s the perfect target. Chessa. Daan. Old people. Sick people. Hurt people. Babies. Leverage with a capital “L.”
I bend over and vomit, but nothing comes up except a yellowish acid that sprays across the gray and gritty snow.
Devon starts toward me, and I hold a hand up to stop him.
After a second, I manage to straighten up. I draw the back of my hand across my mouth, wiping away any remnants. My insides are calm, resolved.
“Okay,” I say finally. “Get Carter.”
I’ll be whoever I need to be to stop this.
