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Her lungs ached for breath, less from the exertion than from panic. She swivelled her head to scan the smoke, her ears alert for the tiniest sound; even Maisie’s claws on the floor made her jump with a gasping breath.
At the far end of the row, Eilidh’s grip faltered, and they were forced to stop. Setting Victoriya down, her head lolling to the side, Joy peered around the furthest cabinet, at the door—hanging invitingly open but far away.
“Okay, we—” she began.
The world filled with sudden sound, like trees crashing to the ground, wood torn apart.
Joy’s eyes shot to Eilidh’s, to Gus’s, to Maisie’s, and with a silent agreement, they grabbed Victoriya and flung themselves around the cabinet’s corner.
Joy panted for breath, her lungs straining as they ran at full speed across the room. Even sandwiched between the aisles and the wall, it was too open. She could see Bo, his hands lifted towards the ceiling. That cracking, tearing sound got louder.
Bo was all she could see. No Gabi, no Katrina, no Salma. Joy didn’t have time to panic; they reached the doorway, and somehow spilled out into the hall without the killer jumping into their path.
“Get to the lift,” Gus rasped as they struggled to manoeuvre their friend.
Joy’s arms were badly aching from holding up Victoriya’s legs, and her hand was cramping from holding so tightly to her wand, at such an awkward angle, but she gritted her teeth and endured it.
She threw a look behind them, but no psychotic witch had pursued them.
Eilidh ducked out from supporting Victoriya to jam the call button on the lift. When it didn’t light up, a heavy feeling dropped over Joy, acceptance absent of surprise. Eilidh hit the button over and over, growling through gritted teeth, but it remained dark, and the doors remained shut. The exit was barred.
Joy matched her friends’ horrified expressions. “She locked us in.”
THIRTY-TWO
GABI
Whose blood can I smell? It was the only thought circling Gabi’s head. She kept low to the ground so the filing cabinets would hide her from Perchta, trying in vain to get her emotions to calm. With her baton extended in front of her and fine hairs standing on end, she took small steps towards the end of the row, where her dad and Peregrine crouched, their hands flat on the ground. They had to be planning something big to be coordinating their magic like that, pooling it into one powerful source.
Gabi needed to be with them when they unleashed it. Not because she could help, but because being outside the epicentre could be fatal.
She took another few steps, trying to make as little sound as possible. She couldn’t afford to worry about Joy, about the coven, but the fear was persistent, pressing into her in careless waves.
She hadn’t seen Perchta since Salma filled the room with smoke. The fog had cleared now, but it had left a metallic tang that, added to the cloying scent of blood and iron, turned Gabi’s stomach.
WherewasSalma? Gabi craned her head as she finally reached her dad.
“You okay?” he mouthed. His eyes were pinched with concern as he scanned her, but at her nod, he turned his attention back to the magic pouring into the floorboards. Peregrine bowed over his hands, his face creased with the strain and sweat beading on his forehead. Gabi felt a pang of worry but shoved it off. He knew what he was doing with magic. Unlike her.
She scanned what little she could see between the cabinets and caught her breath. Was that Perchta’s tan suit moving through the faint mist clinging to the ground, or just a shadow? Was it the witch killer coming to finish what she’d started with Peregrine—a line of blood trickling from his neck—or was it Salma fleeing the records room? As much as Perchta’s lilting judgement had chilled Gabi’s blood earlier, she wished the killer would taunt them now, so she at least knew where the ancient witch was.
“Gabi?” came a low whisper in Peregrine’s velvet voice. Her eyes snapped to his, and she pretended not to feel the hurt and recognition that hit her. Had it been a mistake all these years to push him away?
No. She’d heard him out before, right after she found out he’d been sitting on the secret ever since her mum died. She hadn’t forgiven him then; she wouldn’t now. But she couldn’t let that get in the way of their survival. For the sake of survival, she would trust him.
“Get ready to run.” He jerked his head in the direction of the corridor, the door still hanging open.
Gabi dared to look over the top of the cabinets to plan her route to the door. It wasn’t massively far but it would beopenand provide plenty of opportunity for Perchta to spot her.
Gabi ducked back down, crowding closer to Peregrine and her dad, and fought to keep her emotions off her face. Perchta was nowhere to be seen but neither had Salma. Had Perchta gone after Victoriya? AfterJoy?
The air rippled, her only warning.
Gabi bit down on a shriek when the world rocked and creaked and tore apart. Her heart beat faster, adrenaline dumping into her blood like electricity. She threw an assessing glance around the aisle, but what she saw made no sense.
What the hell?In all her life, Gabi had known nothing like this.
The boards on the floor peeled back like leaves shrivelling, the wainscoting on the walls tearing itself free with a visceral groan, panel by panel, and at the far end of the room all that wood came together,coalesced.
