We can do this,I thought.We WILL do this.
GABRIELA WAS LOOKING AROUNDthe abandoned warehouse with awe, as if it were a ballroom and she were Cinderella. “Is this where you plan all your quests?”
“Heists,” I corrected. “And this is my first time planning one myself, so no.” Scooping up dust, I tossed it in the air across the warehouse. It lingered, suddenly bringing to life the dozens of crisscrossing red beams.
She knelt next to one of the motion-sensing lasers and waved her hand in front of it. Ryan’s computer beeped, and Gabriela stopped. “The unicorn horn in Ryan’s family’s vault…the unicorn wasn’t killed, right? Natural death? Because to kill a unicorn—”
“Old age,” I lied. I had no idea. I only knew it was there because Ryan’s mom had mentioned it once—being a human, she didn’t have the wyvern obsession with gold. Most of the treasures they’d collected were because of her, including the horn. I wondered if the jewel I was targeting was specifically hers and how badly she’d want it back. Hopefully badly enough to tell me what happened to Mom. “The horn itself is very old too.” That much I knew—it had come from Home with one of the exiles. There were no unicorns on Earth.
“So after I block the detection spell, you…do what exactly about the lasers?”
“This.” Stepping back, I began: flipping, cartwheeling, stepping, ducking, twisting, rolling, and contorting myself until at last I reached the other side. Everyone was watching me: Gabriela with her jaw dropped open, Maximus with a half smile on his face. And Ryan…
Nowthatwas the look that I’d been wanting these past few weeks. Or close to it. He was looking at me like I was a cupcake he couldn’t eat.
Straightening, I sauntered back to Gabriela. “I’ve got the easy part.”
“Who has the hard part?”
I tried to look encouraging. “You.”
She gulped.
“All I need to do is control my body; you have to control your mind. Maximus will help you. He’s a wizard, remember?”
“I do detection spells and fire-related spells,” Maximus said, his voice carrying across the warehouse. “Actual wizardry is a lot more limited than in Dungeons and Dragons. Still cool, of course, but with less variety. And you have to be ready to walk through fire.”
She didn’t look reassured. But I guided her across the warehouse, with lots of you’ll-do-fine, it-will-be-great platitudes. She was key to all of this. Everyone had a part to play. “You wanted magic,” I reminded her.
Maximus started with a small fire, a candle, and then gave Gabriela a vial of glittery purple liquid. “Ooh, pretty!” she said.
“Brace yourself,” I warned her.
She frowned and opened her mouth to ask a question.
“Drink it fast,” Maximus said.
She drank it, and her whole face squinched up like she’d bitten into a lemon.
Maximus ignored her sputtering. “Willing participation is essential to any spell. Or rather, essential to any spell not hurting. Put your hand into the flame.”
Still scraping her tongue against her teeth, she slid her fingers into the candle. “Ouch!” She snatched them back and stuck her fingers into her mouth.
He drew them out. “Not burned. See? It’s in your head. Try again. Once you’re able to control your mind’s reaction to the flame, the spell will ensure the fire doesn’t hurt you, at least until the spell wears off. You’ll need to cross the wall of fire before that happens.”
She kept trying. And the next day, she tried again, making the same face when she drank the purple potion. And the third day again.
Each day she wore a different unicorn-themed T-shirt.
On the third day of practice, while Gabriela was working herself up to sticking her whole hand into a small fire, I asked Ryan, “How are you keeping your parents from guessing where you are?”
He didn’t look up from his computer code. “They know where I am.”
I shot a look at the warehouse door, half expecting to see his father burst through. His father was the size of a pro wrestler and looked as though he crushed cars with his bare hands for a hobby. Combine that with his strict insistence on proper behavior…He wasn’t someone I was anxious to see, especially since we were training to rob him.
“My parents know where I am; they just don’t know who I’m with.” He turned his laptop around to show me the screen. On it was a delicate black-and-white drawing of the ceiling of the warehouse. He’d captured the shadows and the strips of light that poked through the spots where rust had eaten away the roof. Cobwebs almost seemed to be swaying. “I told them I’m doing an independent study for art.”
“Ryan, that’s really good.”
