Footsteps behind us. Faint. I spin around to see…Lanz.
And God, but Callahan's right. He looks like death warmed over. Worse than he did yesterday, somehow. Like, exponentially.
"I can feel her," Lanz says. "I can just—" But he doesn’t finish the thought, just clutches at his chest. I stare, astonished. What the fuck is going on with you,Lanzelin? I think, more in wonder and dismay than anger. Because again, I can't be mad. I can only fucking problem-solve right now. I can only do things that will get me closer to Gwenna and Gwenna closer to safe.
"She's still on campus," he says. "She's not that far. I think she's like—" He gestures vaguely toward the heart of campus. The chapel. “There."
We all move all at once. A little mini stampede for the door, Cal practically knocking me down by accident and Lanz loping behind me, but Kingston gets there first, to the door handle.
He pulls it. And pulls it.
"What, is it fucking locked?” I say, anxiety bleeding a little sharpness into my tone. "Comeon.”
“Ican't," Kingston says. "It's—fuck.Fuck." He rattles it harder, and it barely even moves. The big, thick door and its swirled antique glass, hardly even budging enough to make a sound as he yanks on it,. And Kingston's no weakling.
"Move." I push him away without waiting for him to answer and grab the handle myself. Pull.
And...
“Shit.” It's like iron encased in cement.
I wrench it with my fingers, with my biceps, my whole back and legs, and it barely, barely moves.
"What the actual fuck?" I mutter under my breath. I jump back, hands spread. “Someone else figure this. I can’t.”
Callahan doesn't wait for any more instructions. He charges the thing, shoulder down, and justslamsinto it, full-speed. Hard.
And then crumples. Like he's run into cinderblock.
"Jesus, Mary, Joseph," he says, stumbling backward, clutching his shoulder. "It's?—"
No one waits to hear the rest of it. I scramble for the living room, climb onto the window seat, shove my fingertips under the sash, and pull, yank. It doesn't move either.
"The fuck?" I half mutter, half yell.
Gwenna, I think.Gwenna Gwenna Gwenna.
I clench a fist, cock back, and punch right into the center of the window pane. But…nothing. My hand flattens against it with a crunch, like I’ve just punched steel.
"Jesus." I rock back, clutching my hand to my chest. Raw flaps of skin are seeping dots of blood on my knuckles, and flexing my fingers is blisteringly painful. I don't think I broke it, but that was sure fucking stupid.
"They won't move either," Kingston says from across the room. "The windows are all stuck. Like some kind of…”
The sharp edge of panic skims over the back of my neck like the fine edge of a knife.
"Like magic," I say.
King just nods.
"Fuck!” I yell, and slam a kick into the little brass holder of fireplace tools, sending them clanging in all directions. So much for self-control. So much for anything. No, I am a wild animalsnared in a trap, and she is out there, she isout thereand she isnot safe, and I need to get there if I have to gnaw off my own leg to find her, because I cannot and Iwill notlet her fall into their hands. Not if I can do anythingwhatsoeverabout it. Kill me, kill all these guys, burn the place to the fucking ground,I don't care. Just do not touch a hair on her goddamn head.
Let. Me. Out.
Bring. Her. Back.
"Magic?” Lanz says. Now he's gaping. "But who? Why?"
Callahan’s face is grim, like he knows the answer even though he isn't certain, a lucky guess that's not so lucky after all.
