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“Next to impossible isn’t the same as impossible,” I grumble, but stop trying to answer the question.
“I think it’s safe to say that whoever took you made you cut the spells? Did they threaten Merritt to get you to do it?” Ezra asks as we turn from the hall we’re in into a much wider one. This one is vaguely familiar and I realize we must still be under the school, though the room that Cohen had taken me to isn’t on my hand-drawn map.
My mind flickers to the bones I’d seen the broken wood boxes and I realize we must have been under the cemetery. A shudder works over me, knowing now that those bones are likely human and the wood from coffins. Is it a catacomb situation? Or when they were digging the tunnel had the scraped away too much, and the coffins fell through the roof?
Either way, it’s not a place I have any interest in spending more time.
We emerge in the chamber under Proctor, and I relax even more when I recognize it. “How did you guys find me?”
Ezra smirks and holds up a pamphlet for the school that has a map of the campus on it. There is a burned line stretching from the path that leads to the town to the cemetery. It looks like a map Ezra had in his hand when he’d shown up in Goodwin drunk off his ass at the end of fall quarter.
“A tracking spell. It requires more ingredients and we need a map that covers the place where you are, but we can still find you anywhere, Ro.”
“The other spell is just much faster,” Fielder adds. “We only have to activate it in order to follow the trail. This took longer.”
The tone he uses tells me that the time spent on creating the new spell is unacceptable to him. As Hardin pushes open the door that leads to the basement of the male dorm, I reach out and run my fingers over his arm, drawing his attention back to me. “I’m sorry. I should have been more careful.”
He shakes his head, pressing my fingers into the fabric of his jacket. “Don’t apologize, Sweeney. It’s not your fault.”
I nod, accepting his words, even as I know they aren’t true. I should have taken the shuttle, or had one of the guys to drive us. Hell, they probably would have given me the keys to one of their cars if I’d asked. But I’d gotten used to the quiet, lulled into complacency and because of that, Cohen had been able to take me.
Granted, he hadn’t actually hurt me. But they didn’t know that while they were looking for me.
I’m sure they’d had all kinds of terrifying thoughts rolling through their heads. I’m sure that they were expecting the worst. That they would find my dead body down there in the tunnels.
Like he can sense my thoughts, Gideon’s lips press into my hair as we step into the elevator. Fielder scans his key card and the lift moves.
I can practically feel them bursting with questions, but they know they won’t get any answers out of me about what happened, not with this spell hanging over me.
Merritt is waiting in our dorm, stretched out on the couch with her head in Ben’s lap. I elbow Gideon to get him to set me down.
“Careful, Ro,” he grunts when I make contact, but he sets me on my feet like I wanted and I rush over to my friend, kneeling next to her.
“How are you feeling?” My hands hover over her body, worried if I touch her it might hurt her somehow, since I have no clue what Cohen did to her.
She gives me a tired smile. “Like I got hit with a truck filled with the flu.”
“Fuck,” I breathe. “I’m so sorry, Mer.”
Ben strokes a hand through her hair, gently. “Why are you sorry, Ro? You can’t help that she got sick.”
I let out a breath as guilt gnaws at me. “Yeah, right. Of course I can’t. It was more of an… empathetic sorry. You know? I’m sorry she’s sick.”
He grins. “Fair enough.” I look back at Merritt meeting her gold eyes and let her know with a look what I really mean though. She reaches out and squeezes my hand.
“We’ll talk later,” she reassures me, and I nod.
“Let me know if you need anything, okay?”
Ben cuddles her closer. “If she needs anything, I’ll get it for her.” He’s not being possessive or an ass about it, more like he just wants to take care of her. He wants to be the one to make her feel better.
Something tugs in my chest. Cohen is right. Merritt deserves so much better than to be tied to a coven that would keep her from the man she loves and that treats her like a second-class citizen.
For a moment, I get lost in the idea of forming my own coven with Merritt and Cohen. Of being the one to make to the rules, to tell her she can love whoever the fuck she wants, regardless of if they have power or not.
I’ve met her mom. I know Mrs. Whittaker would support it, too. It’s just the damn rules in place of this coven. It’s not like Ben would tell anyone about Merritt either. He loves her, wants to protect and take care of her. He loves her so much, he would keep her secret and her family’s secret. I have no fucking doubt about that.
A hand lands on my shoulder, drawing me out of my reverie, and I glance up at Hardin. “You alright, love?”
