Right, I think.Like Percy.Revulsion rises in my throat; the Magecorp CEO and his wife considered their cat expendable, and now Darghan Briggs is talking as though his employees are, too. “And I bet you convinced them they were safe, didn’t you? That launching an investigation into the surges wouldn’t put them at risk. Maybe you even promised them promotions—”
“If the surges go on unchecked,” Mr.Briggs says icily, “then many more lives will be lost. More than a few Magecorp employees.” He says it almost as though he…cares…about the threat to the greater population.
The room lapses into silence. It suddenly strikes me as ominous that Mr.Briggs is so willing to share information. “Why are you telling me this?” I ask, challenging him. Trying to sound courageous.
Mr.Briggs doesn’t hesitate. Swiftly and surely, he raises the gun and presses the barrel of it against my forehead. “Because it doesn’t matter what you know,” he says, his face a blank, emotionless mask, “when I’m going to kill you anyway.”
I freeze. My throat has seized up, every muscle tense and rigid.He’s going to murder me, I think,and bury the evidence. Just like the dead Magecorp staff. And it may be completely illogical, but my firstand only thought is that I don’t want to end up as just another photo in his drawer.
You won’t, my brain tells me, stubborn and insistent.You won’t end up like them.And my brain is right, because Mr.Darghan Briggs has got one thing very wrong.
Like most arrogant men, he has underestimated me. He thinks I’m weak; that I won’t fight back.
But I’m not just some silly girl trying to play with the grown-ups.
I am Gwendolynne Chan, the smartest witch at Seamere, and what Mr.Briggs doesn’t know is that in third year I’d blitzed the Restraint of Mythical Beasts exam. And one of the sections that I’d scored perfect marks in?
The module on knot-tying.
At the time, I’d thought it was fucking useless, considering I never planned to work with livestock—but now I’m glad I put the effort into passing.
I’d recognized the knot Darghan Briggs had used on me immediately. And while I’d kept him talking and spilling all his incriminating secrets, I had been quietly working on undoing it. I’d drawn my knees up to my chest, as though I was simply frightened and trying to shield myself. I’d shoved my hands between my legs to hide my efforts.
If he’d had half the knowledge we vet students have, he would’ve realized…
That he had used the wrong fucking knot.
And just as Mr.Briggs clicks off the safety, I burst out of my electrical cord restraints.
If you’ve ever worked with large animals, you’d know that controlling them is not about physical size or force. It’s about intelligence. Work smarter, not harder, as the lecturers say. Even thesmallest veterinarian can tip a sheep, compel a unicorn to move, or restrain a dragon inside a crush.
So, calling on the last vestiges of my myth.creat knowledge, I use momentum to sweep Mr.Briggs’s legs from under him and then kick the gun from his grasp.
He flips over onto his stomach, scrabbling for it unsuccessfully as it skitters across the floor. And as he reaches out, clamoring for his weapon, I slam my foot between his shoulder blades, pinning him to the ground. My brain is nothing but static. There’s only buzzing in my ears. And in this fractional moment I’m back in the livestock yards, about to hog-tie a beast.
I’m still holding the cord Mr.Briggs had used to tie me up. And in less than a second, I take the end of the wire and hurl it against the electric door.
15
Harrisford
It’s only minutes after Gwendolynne disappeared through Magecorp’s automatic doors, and I am already pacing.
It’s not time to panic just yet.Pudding’s voice, reassuring, echoes in my mind.
“I’m not panicking,” I say too quickly.
She tilts her head, just slightly.Of course you’re not.
I reach the end of the alley and peek into the road. Everything is quiet. We’re in the business district of the city; during the week, it would be bustling, but it’s quiet on weekends. A listless breeze gusts down the street. Empty food wrappers spin along the ground, scraping the concrete pavement.
Reaching into my open satchel, I draw Pudding out and nudge her onto my shoulder. Her claws dig into the thick leather of my jacket. It’s chilly, so I turn my collar up in an attempt to shield her from the wind.
Normally, Pudding is the only individual I worry about. The fact I’m worrying about someone else is…different.
Gwendolynne looked good in that outfit, Pudding says after a beat.It suits her.
I’m chewing the corner of my thumbnail. “It does.” I don’t saywhat I’m thinking out loud: that I’m quite partial to how she looks in jeans, too. I’m not quite quick enough to shield my thoughts, but Pudding is gracious enough to pretend not to notice.
