Runaway
When the alarm woke her, hours before dawn, Alexandra slapped it immediately and got out of bed. Rubbing her eyes, she expected to hear Charlie greet her, then remembered that Charlie was still back in Larkin Mills.
A wave of sadness swept over her, and for a moment she reconsidered her plan. She missed Charlie, and she even missed Nigel. Her friends would think she was insane, and she didn't know if Bonnie was going to recover. Wasn't she being reckless and foolish to run away like this?
She forced herself to remember why Bonnie was in a hospital bed. John Manuelito would keep coming after Alexandra until she was dead - or one of her friends was. She had to find him and stop him.
She was still working out what, exactly, she was going to do when she found him, but it felt good to be angry and righteous and vengeful. Running away to confront a shadowy nemesis who was responsible for every bad thing that had happened to her in the past year felt better than confronting lying adults and so-called 'parents.'
Her father had already been formidable at fourteen. Absalom Thorn had said as much. Would Abraham Thorn have just sat in his room and waited for the WJD to take care of a Dark Wizard threatening him and his loved ones? Alexandra was sure that he would not. She'd prove herself, and then dare Abraham and Absalom Thorn not to take her seriously.
She sat in front of the magic mirror she'd left on her desk the night before. Her reflection smiled a pretty girl's smile at her. In the mirror, her unbrushed hair was straight and perfect, her bleary green eyes were sparkling, and every other blemish in her sleepy face was erased, showing her what she could look like if she applied the Glamour charms Julia had taught her. Alexandra tapped the mirror with her wand.
–Older,†she said. –I want to look older.â€
Her reflection arched an eyebrow coyly, then became less childish and more mature. Not much older, and still her, but Alexandra knew what an incredible transformation makeup charms could achieve.
–Much older,†she said, thinking that the girl in the mirror would still barely pass for sixteen.
Her mirror-self frowned a little at that, but obligingly tossed her head and adopted a much more serious countenance. Her eyes darkened and her skin tone grew less pale. Alexandra could imagine this girl passing for seventeen or eighteen - maybe.
She had learned Illusions and Disillusionment Charms the previous year, but Mr. Newton had kept the lessons mostly focused on inanimate objects. Faces moved and shifted too much and Disguise Charms didn't last long, so Alexandra hadn't practiced them much. Nor did she know how to brew Polyjuice Potion. She began casting makeup charms to match what the mirror showed her, while making a note to herself: a witch should learn magic before she'd need it.
As the sun began to illuminate the horizon, she went to the bathroom mirror, which showed only her actual face. The transformation was not quite as perfect as she had hoped. She looked rather like an inexperienced teenager trying to look older. She sighed. Julia was much better at this.
–Now dear, you look fine,†said the bathroom mirror. –Although that's rather a lot of makeup, don't you think? Oh, please don't get angry!†The mirror had not forgotten being broken when Alexandra was in sixth grade.
–I'm not. Do you think I look... older?â€
–Oh, my. There's a boy, isn't there?â€
Alexandra walked out of the bathroom without answering and put her own mirror back in the backpack. She studied the map Quimley had given her, and attuned her Lost Traveler's Compass to the point where John Manuelito's log cabin was located before putting the map back in her pack and the Compass in her pocket. She tucked the letter she had written to Anna under her roommate's bare pillow.
Finally, she ate some bread and fruit. Then she put on her sweater, her coat, and her charmed mud- and snow-repelling boots, and picked up the Skyhook, slinging her backpack over her other shoulder. She opened the window, swung out on the Skyhook, closed the window from outside, and descended to the ground.
There was some snow on the ground, but mostly the earth was just damp and muddy near the school as she hiked through the woods. It was almost too easy, she thought. But then, who ever ran away from Charmbridge?
After this, they'll probably put a Trace on me even at school. Assuming I ever come back to school. Dean Grimm really might expel her after this, even if she was her aunt. And Alexandra wasn't sure she wanted to come back to Charmbridge Academy anyway. To watch her mother walking around the hallways in the form of a cat?
She didn't know where the Trace actually started, but she cast the Transfiguration spell she had learned last year on her boots, turning them into snowshoes, before she left the boundaries of Charmbridge. The snow was heavier on the ground as she exited the woods and approached the valley.
The snowshoes were only a little awkward while she crossed the Invisible Bridge. As soon as she reached the other side, the snow felt firm and her feet light, and she was able to move at a brisk walk.
The two-lane highway didn't get a lot of traffic even during the summer. Alexandra didn't know exactly where it went in the direction away from Chicago, but she had rarely seen other vehicles on it. Now the road was icy and treacherous and didn't appear to have been salted or plowed recently. Few non-magical vehicles would dare attempt the ascent from either direction, and no one passed her during her hike down the mountain.
It took over an hour, and Alexandra worked up a light sweat. The sun was above the horizon when she reached the highway signs pointing to Chicago. Once she came to the highway, there was traffic on the road, even this early.
Archie had told Alexandra all about the dangers of hitchhiking, of course, when she was far too young to ever consider doing such a thing. She hadn't been too young for her stepfather to fill her head with dire warnings about rape, dismemberment, and being sold to a white slavery ring that would ship her off to a foreign country. With her wand safely at hand, Alexandra felt quite capable of protecting herself, but she was glad when the people who picked her up were a friendly middle-aged couple. She told her story of being a college freshman who'd just had a fight with her boyfriend and was trying to get back to Chicago. Mrs. Stuckley clucked sympathetically, while commenting that she looked so young. Alexandra tried to act convincingly distraught and hoped they wouldn't ask her too many details about the university she'd named, which happened to be only a few blocks from the Goblin Market.
The Stuckleys drove her all the way to Chicago and dropped her off right in front of the university. She thanked them profusely, waited until they had disappeared around the corner, then walked in the opposite direction.
She was feeling very pleased with herself. The next step would be trickier. She was pretty sure the thirty-two dollars, four eagles, and ten pidges that was all the cash she had in the world would not get her to Dinétah. Which meant she needed to get into the Colonial Bank of the New World, withdraw some money, and then disappear into Muggle Chicago quickly. Any moment now, Dean Grimm would discover that she had run away. Alexandra didn't know what resources might be put on her trail: the Trace Office, for sure, but possibly her aunt as well.
She didn't go to Grobnowski's Old World Deli, but the strip mall laundromat that Ms. Grimm had once taken her to. She walked past the Muggles in the front of the laundromat, down the corridor to the back entrance, and ignoring the locks and signs saying 'No Exit,' opened the door and stepped out into the Goblin Market.
Even in January, it was busy, though not so busy as in September. There were New Year's decorations still up, and everyone from Ilsing's Wizard Wares to the Chicago Broom Megastore had put up signs advertising clearance sales. Alexandra had to resist the temptation to duck into Boxley's Books to spend an hour or two browsing unchaperoned, and possibly even test the Age Line that the magical portrait of Justice Boxley said was on the other side of the door to the 'Very Special Interests' section. But she didn't have time. Diana Grimm might even now be searching the streets for her.
Alexandra walked directly to the Colonial Bank of the New World, and down the street saw the same alley she'd almost followed Gertrude into the previous September. Sure enough, a large woman with a scarf around her head and her back to the bank was talking to a little wizard who looked around furtively before preceding her down the alley.
Alexandra took the bank book her father had given her out of her pack and entered the bank.
She walked confidently into the foyer, and stopped in her tracks when she found Mr. Dearborn looking down at her.
The father of Darla and Mary Dearborn was hanging from the wall in a life-sized portrait, wearing an elegant black velvet suit with white and purple ruffles. His expression was very severe and serious. 'James Constantine Dearborn II: Central Territory Director of the Colonial Bank of the New World' read the plaque beneath him.
His hair was grayer and his face more lined than Alexandra remembered from his visit to Charmbridge Academy after Darla's death. She let out a breath when she realized the portrait was not a living, seeing one. Mr. Dearborn, of course, was still alive. Perhaps this portrait would become alive when he died, but for now, it was just oil on canvas.
She continued into the bank lobby, and stopped dead in her tracks for a second time when she saw the real Mr. Dearborn.
The Central Territory Director of the Colonial Bank of the New World was standing in the middle of the lobby talking to some other wizards. They were wearing robes and cloaks, but Mr. Dearborn wore a suit much like that in his portrait, and the same serious expression.
There was no way Alexandra could walk past him and expect not to be seen. It was possible he might remain in conversation with the other patrons and ignore her, but all it would take was one glance in her direction. Alexandra's makeup charms might make her look older, but they weren't true illusions, and she was certain that Mr. Dearborn would remember her face. How could he not recognize the girl who was responsible for his daughter's death?
She stood there in the entrance for a minute, her gaze sweeping the lobby, hoping to see a side entrance or some other way to walk around to the counters without going through the lobby. There were none. The longer she stood there, the greater the chance that Mr. Dearborn might notice her. She backed into the foyer and waited nervously beneath his portrait, listening to him continue talking to the wizards. Eventually they ended their conversation, but then the banker greeted a new customer who'd just walked in. Alexandra stifled a groan. Apparently the Director of all the CBNW branches in Central Territory had chosen today to personally greet all the customers at this one. How long would he stand there in the lobby? And how long could she remain here without someone wondering why a teenage girl was loitering by the bank entrance?
Gritting her teeth, she slipped outside. Maybe she'd try again in ten minutes. She couldn't wait much longer if she wanted to get out of Chicago this morning.
Across the street, she saw a girl walking toward her and cursed under her breath. It was Mary Dearborn. She was carrying a small paper bag with the Goody Pruett logo on it.
–What is this, Take Your Daughter to Work Day?†Alexandra muttered.
She looked down the street in the opposite direction, and saw the hulking shadow of someone lurking just at the mouth of the alley where the woman and the furtive little wizard had disappeared earlier.
This wasn't the plan, she thought. But Mary was going to ascend the steps to the bank any moment, and Alexandra had no idea how long father and daughter would be inside.
She hurried down the steps, keeping her back to Mary as she rounded the corner of the bank to put it between them, then rushed down the street. She didn't dare look back, and was so determined to get away that she got yelled at by a man in black robes riding an immense black horse when she stepped in front of him while crossing the street.
–Sorry,†she said, hurrying on. The man in the cloak cursed at her, and the horse snorted flames out of its nostrils.
She slowed her pace and approached the figure in the alleyway calmly. It was a hag, squatting in front of a little kettle that hung from a tripod and boiled as if there were a fire beneath it, though there was nothing but brick pavement.
The hag said, –You look familiar, dearie.â€
–I think we've met,†Alexandra said.
–Have we?â€
–Are you Gertrude?â€
The hag inspected her nails. They were shorter than Martha's, but just as black. –Am I?â€
–Or Hilda?â€
–We do all look alike, don't we?â€
Alexandra felt the reproach, but pressed on. –I need to borrow some money.â€
The hag did a double-take, then burst into dry, cackling laughter. –Excuse me? Dear child, I've heard some fantastic witch's tales about hags, but this is a new one! Whoever told you that hags hand out money to greedy little girls?â€
–I'm not a little girl, and I don't expect you to hand out money. But I'll bet you deal in pawned goods and loans, just like you trade in...†Alexandra lowered her voice. –Things you can't buy in stores.â€
The hag leaned forward, until Alexandra could smell her breath. It was disturbingly sweet and apple-scented. –What do you want, dear... something better than the Glamour Charms you've used to age yourself? I might be able to help. Now, if you're trying to get past an Age Line, it will take much more than a Glamour Charm...â€
Alexandra filed that away, and said, –No, I need money. I actually have an account at the CBNW but I can't go in there right now. But I can pay you back the next time I'm in Chicago...†Her voice trailed off. She could tell from the hag's expression that she sounded pitiful. She pulled out her bank book. –I can prove I really do have an account.â€
–Then why don't you just walk across the street and get this money you need so desperately?â€
–I don't have time.â€
–Ah.†The hag laid a finger against the corner of her mouth and smiled slyly. –And why should I give you money?â€
–I assume you charge interest, right?â€
–Oh, the young witch understands banking!†The hag chuckled. –Well then, you understand that what you're asking for is -†she drew herself upright and spoke very slowly, as if to a child – - what we in the financial services industry refer to as an 'unsecured loan.'†She grinned at Alexandra's sullen expression. –Now, normally, I'd require some guarantee of repayment.â€
–Like what?â€
–Oh, an Unbreakable Vow usually suffices.â€
Alexandra gulped. –An Unbreakable Vow?â€
–I'd need to enlist one of my wanded colleagues to cast the spell, and it all becomes rather complicated and expensive.†Alexandra sensed that the hag was merely toying with her. –Just how much do you want, dearie?â€
–Ten lions.â€
–Ten lions? My, that's an awful lot of lunch money.â€
Alexandra glowered. –I'm serious.â€
–Not for ten lions, you're not. Hardly even worth getting a wizard to cast an Unbreakable Vow for that amount.†The hag reached a hand out to touch Alexandra under the chin. –Though if you need the money that badly, there are ways -â€
Alexandra backed away. –Look, I can swear on my witch's honor -â€
The hag cackled laughter so loudly that witches and wizards passing on the street turned their heads. –Oh, your witch's honor? Well, why didn't you say so? In that case, I'll hand it right over!â€
–Stop making fun of me.â€
The hag stopped laughing. –Do you know what collateral is?â€
–Yes.†Alexandra frowned, thinking about the contents of her pack.
–I can offer you a good deal on your wand - much more than ten lions.â€
–Forget it.†Alexandra could only think of one object she possessed that might be valuable and that she could do without. She opened the top of her pack and reached inside.
The hag watched as Alexandra's arm went all the way in. –A magical backpack? I can give you a few lions for that, depending on how large -â€
–I'm keeping the pack.†Alexandra almost winced as she pulled out the magic mirror. I'm sorry, Julia. She offered it to the hag.
The hag took it in both hands and held it up to her face. She brought one hand to her cheek. –Why, bless my soul! Aren't you the most flattering glass I've ever seen.†She lowered it. –It's not worth ten lions.â€
–It totally is!†Alexandra said angrily. –It's a gift from my sister! Anyway, I'm not selling it - I'm offering it as collateral.â€
The hag sighed. –Morrigan and Scathach, I'm becoming soft-hearted in my old age. All right, young witch. I'll give you seven lions, and if you want the mirror back, before the next new moon, you bring me thirteen.â€
–That's almost a hundred percent interest!â€
–Such a clever child,†the hag said in a kindly voice.
–Nine lions.â€
–Eight lions, and your interest will make it fifteen to get it back.â€
Alexandra clenched her teeth together. –Can you give it to me in dollars?â€
–Oh, you want Muggle money? Well, there's an exchange fee, of course.†The hag set the mirror next to her cauldron, pulled out a small purse from inside her robes, and unrolled several very green bills. She counted them out and handed them to Alexandra.
–This is way less than Gringotts or the CBNW would give me for eight lions,†Alexandra said.
–Then go to Gringotts or the CBNW.â€
Alexandra glared at her and put the money in her backpack. –What's your name, so I can find you?â€
–Gertrude.†The hag laughed. –Until next time, dear.â€
Half an hour later, Alexandra was at the Greyhound bus terminal. She walked to the ticket counter, and said in her most confident, adult voice: –Farewell, New Mexico, please.â€
The woman behind the booth looked bored, but hesitated when Alexandra slid cash across the counter. –How old are you?â€
–Seventeen,†Alexandra said, speaking in her most bored, why-are-you-asking-me-this? voice. Inwardly, she was sweating.
–You got any ID?â€
Alexandra looked at the placard on the counter, with rules and regulations in small print. –It doesn't say I need ID to buy a bus ticket. If I had a driver's license I wouldn't be taking a bus, would I?â€
The clerk rolled her eyes. –Well, you don't need to cop an attitude, honey.†She printed out the ticket and slid it and the meager change back across the counter. –Have a nice trip.â€
The bus did not actually board for another forty minutes. Alexandra sat on one of the benches in the bus station and unfolded the map of the Four Corners region again. It was a long way from Farewell, New Mexico to where Quimley had circled John Manuelito's hideout. She guessed she'd have to hitchhike - she couldn't just run down the highway in her Seven-League Boots.
And then? She still had the magical card Diana Grimm had given her that would summon her. Alexandra would track down John Manuelito and then let her aunt the Special Inquisitor come and get him.
There were several obvious holes in this plan that Alexandra could see even in her current state of mind, but she was still running on rage and indignation and above all, a desperate desire to get away from both Charmbridge Academy and Larkin Mills.
The bus driver opened the door and allowed passengers to board. Alexandra found a seat near the back and thought about trying to call Anna. But Anna was probably already on her way to Charmbridge Academy, and if Alexandra did reach her, Anna would only try to talk her out of this.
Alexandra leaned her head against the glass and watched the highway fly past. It was dull and gray and seemed much slower than the Automagicka. The trip to New Mexico would take over twenty-four hours, with food and rest stops along the way. Despite her resolution to keep her eyes open, she fell asleep, missing Charlie and wishing she had her raven here to watch over her.
She woke up when she felt the bus turn. She sat up and saw signs telling her they were entering St. Louis. The weather was clear; the sun was still up, but not for much longer.
She checked her phone messages while they rolled past the St. Louis Arch. She had half a dozen. The first three were from Claudia. She deleted them. The next was from Payton. He was wondering why she hadn't called on New Year's Day like she'd said she would. The fifth was from Anna, who was disappointed at not reaching her, as she wasn't sure when she'd get a chance to use her cell phone again.
The last was from Livia.
–Hello Alexandra,†said her sister. –We still have some things to talk about. I don't want you calling me at home again or at my office. I'm going to give you my cell phone number. Call me tomorrow night at six o'clock.â€
That had been left the previous night, while Alexandra was still at Charmbridge. It was now close to six o'clock.
The bus pulled into a large, gray concrete terminal. Gateway Station was a major regional hub serving buses, trains, taxis, and rental cars. Signs promised a food court, as well as restrooms that had to be cleaner than the bus toilet. There would be a two-hour layover, so Alexandra disembarked.
The terminal was all steel and concrete and colored glass, much newer than Chicago's Union Station. Alexandra found the food court and bought a soda, which she carried to the most isolated corner of the station she could find to drink with food she took out of her backpack. Sitting on a plastic bench looking out a window onto a not particularly scenic view of downtown St. Louis, she dialed Livia's number.
The curt voice answered after one ring: –Hello.â€
–I thought you never wanted to hear from me again,†Alexandra said.
If Livia was taken aback by Alexandra's own curtness, she answered smoothly enough. –That was before I saw Claudia.â€
–Well, you can stay in Milwaukee and never see either of us again. That's what you want, right?â€
This time Livia didn't answer right away. –I don't know.â€
Alexandra sipped from her soda, and an announcement about a train leaving for Memphis echoed through the terminal.
–Where are you?†asked Livia.
Alexandra ignored the question. –What do you want, then?â€
–What did you mean about what's inside the Regal Royalty Sweets and Confections warehouse?â€
–Does your family still own that building?†Alexandra asked. –You used to go there when you were a child, didn't you?â€
–I think I might have visited Larkin Mills as a child. And I suppose the Pruett family does still own it.â€
–What is your family doing with it?â€
–I'm the only Pruett left. What is this about, Alexandra?â€
–You mean you own all the Goody Pruetts in the Confederation?â€
–Not exactly. My grandparents' will was complicated. They established a trust which meant that I got most of the money from the company but no control over it. Anyway, I left that behind too when I became Wandless.â€
–So you left your family and your family fortune behind. Just like you left your sister behind.â€
Now emotion colored Livia's voice. –I didn't leave Claudia, Alexandra. I had no say - I was eight! I begged my grandparents to let her live with us. You have no idea what it was like growing up with them.â€
Alexandra watched a bus pass by in front of her.
–So why are you interested in an abandoned warehouse?†Livia asked.
–It's being used by the Dark Convention.â€
–It's what?â€
–You know, like on TV, where drug smugglers hide their drugs in a toy factory or something? Except instead of drug smugglers, it's hags, and instead of drugs, it's - whatever, Dark artifacts and stuff. I thought you might want to know that.â€
–How do you know this?â€
–I guess it probably doesn't make any difference to you. But I'm thinking if the Wizard Justice Department finds out, they might come looking for you to ask questions. Have you heard of the WODAMND Act?â€
–The what?â€
–Ask Diana Grimm about it the next time you see her. Did you know she's my aunt?â€
Livia was silent.
–Why did you never speak to Claudia again?†Alexandra asked. –Why did you never come to see either of us? Because Claudia was hiding from the wizarding world and made everyone promise to leave her alone? That's such a cop-out. It's almost as bad as when our father uses it. In fourteen years, none of you could have told her 'Your sister who you're pretending is your daughter has a right to know who we are'?â€
–You make it sound very simple. There's more than what you've heard.â€
–No kidding? Are you going to tell me the rest?â€
Livia hesitated. –I can't - it involves me, and Claudia, and our father, and probably no one of us knows everything, not even him.â€
–Well, why don't you all have a chat and then let me know when you decide what you're going to tell me. If anything. But you really should do something about that warehouse. Especially the portrait of Goody Pruett hanging there alone in the dark.â€
–What were you doing in there? You said there are hags living there?â€
–Tell Claudia I'm all right if you talk to her,†Alexandra said.
–Wait, where are you?â€
–Bye.†Alexandra hung up and finished her meal. When her phone rang, she turned it off.
Two hours later, she was on another bus. There were more empty seats than on the ride from Chicago to St. Louis. To her surprise, quite a few of the other passengers were young men and women, teenagers only a few years older than herself. She curled up and closed her eyes until the bus was underway again, to discourage anyone from talking to her.
Oklahoma was flat and featureless, and they crossed most of it at night. Alexandra woke up when new passengers boarded in Tulsa and an elderly woman with bad teeth sat next to her.
–Going to Amarillo, dear?†she asked, ignoring the resentful look Alexandra had unsuccessfully deployed to keep her away.
–No. New Mexico.â€
–Oh, that's quite a ways. I'm going to see my brother in Amarillo. He's retired. He has back problems.†The woman - who never even gave her name to Alexandra, nor asked hers - proceeded to tell Alexandra all about her retired brother, their deceased parents, her younger sister in Waco, the thirty-seven years she'd spent as a clerk in the Tulsa records office, drought, real estate prices, and 'peak oil.' Alexandra barely replied with more than a mumble at first, and then stopped replying altogether. The woman didn't notice, but she kept Alexandra awake for most of the next four hours before finally nodding off herself. When the woman got off in Amarillo, Alexandra was grateful, only to have someone else sit next to her. The bus was crowded now - apparently a lot of people took the Greyhound from Texas to New Mexico - and her seatmate this time was a large Hispanic man wearing a faded brown leather jacket. He smelled like sweat and hay and cow manure, and had large, scarred hands which he kept on his knees. He nodded to Alexandra once, smiled in an almost nervous manner, and didn't say a thing to her. By now it was almost noon. Alexandra thought about checking her phone messages, but she was so tired, she just napped some more.
Charlie was confined in the cage in her room back in Larkin Mills. The water dish was full, the food tray filled, and in his glass cage, Nigel basked contentedly on his warming rock. Charlie regarded the snake with a mixture of primal antipathy and disdain for its tiny reptile brain. But what Charlie felt most of all was resentment and frustration.
–Alexandra!†the raven cried. –Alexandra!â€
–Sorry, Charlie,†Alexandra whispered, and woke up. The man next to her grunted and blinked sleepily at her. She had been dreaming, and while dreaming, she had sensed her familiar's distress. Charlie wasn't going to forgive her quickly when they were reunited.
They reached Albuquerque in the afternoon, beneath cloudy skies, and Alexandra had to wait for another four-hour layover and bus change. She disembarked and ate another of the meals she'd packed Saturday night at Charmbridge. Buying a pizza at the station was tempting, but after Gertrude's gouging, Alexandra barely had enough money for a bus ticket home. It would be embarrassing to fail to catch John Manuelito and need to call someone to come pick her up.
She checked her phone. She had another message from Payton. She texted him an apology and a promise to call soon.
She thought about calling Anna or David, but they would be at Charmbridge now, already unpacked and eating dinner and probably quite upset about what their crazy, reckless friend was doing. Then she remembered that she still didn't know what Bonnie's condition was. After some hesitation, she dialed Brian's home phone number.
After several rings, Mrs. Seabury answered: –Hello, Seabury residence.†She sounded worn and subdued, but Alexandra thought it was a good sign that she was home and answering with her usual impeccable cordiality.
–Hello, Mrs. Seabury. It's Alexandra.â€
–Alexandra! Good lord, where are you? Your mother told us you've run away!â€
Oops.
–I was wondering...†Alexandra licked her lips. –How is Bonnie?â€
–She... she's in stable condition. The doctors said it's almost miraculous how well she's doing. She came out of her coma, but she's going to be in recovery for a long time.â€
–That's good.†Alexandra wiped her eyes. –I'm really glad.â€
–Alexandra, where are you?â€
–Can I speak to Brian, please?â€
–Not unless you tell me where you are first. Do you know how worried your parents are?â€
My real parents aren't worried about me at all, she thought bitterly. –I'm fine, Mrs. Seabury. But I'd really like to speak to Brian.â€
–Alexandra, I don't know what problems you're having, but running away isn't a solution. Why don't you come home, and then you can talk to Brian.â€
Alexandra bit back half a dozen angry retorts. With difficulty, she controlled her temper and said, –Tell Brian I'm fine, and that I'm really glad Bonnie is going to be all right. Will you tell him that, please?†When Mrs. Seabury didn't answer immediately, Alexandra hung up.
She leaned back against the wall behind her hard plastic chair in the bus terminal and closed her eyes. At least she'd accomplished one good thing.
Now, she had to catch the man responsible for Bonnie's condition. Vengeance. She amended the thought: No, justice.
The passengers heading westward boarded the bus, and Alexandra boarded with them. The bus driver barely glanced at her before nodding her on board. She found a seat in the back which she was able to keep for herself, and sat staring out the window, thinking about what she'd do once she reached her final stop. The bus left Albuquerque, but it was almost as bright as it had been beneath the city's lights, thanks to a waxing moon, almost full, shining over the northern New Mexico desert. Somewhere across that desert was a little round log house where John Manuelito was doing whatever sick things he was up to. Alexandra's fingers gripped her wand, inside the pocket of her jacket.
The bus pulled into Farewell, New Mexico at ten minutes before midnight. Alexandra was one of four people who got out. Farewell was a terminal stop. As the bus turned around and headed back toward Albuquerque, Alexandra surveyed the dark horizon, lit by stars illuminating the serrated mountains in the distance, and felt as if she were standing at the edge of the world. She knew this was nonsense - the highway continued on all the way to California. But with nothing but flat brush and desert and a few scattered towns between her and her destination, and more importantly, not a single friend within a thousand miles, not even Charlie, she felt utterly and completely alone.
Forlornly, she considered how she would get to Orange Rock, a small town right in the middle of the place that wizards called Dinétah and Muggles called the Navajo Nation. It was thirty miles from here and twenty miles from the Interstate. Her Glamour charms had worn off long ago: she looked fourteen again. She doubted a hotel would let an underage girl check in, even if she were willing to blow her money on a hotel room. She was starting to think maybe she should have planned ahead better.
Screw that, she thought. Am I a witch or not? She was long out of range of Central Territory's Trace Office, and if she couldn't even get herself a place to sleep or cross a few miles of desert, what business did she have taking on a Dark Wizard? Would her father have been a gloomy runaway, beset with doubts because he wasn't sure where he was going to sleep that night? Someone who meant to be taken seriously didn't worry about such trivial details.
A middle-aged woman who was one of the disembarking passengers gave Alexandra a disapproving once-over. –You're too young to be out here at this time of night.â€
–It's all right, ma'am. My aunt is picking me up.†Please, please, go away, she thought, wishing she was in twelfth grade, where they taught the Confundus Charm.
–I don't know...†the woman said dubiously. A few yards away, a man who was also apparently waiting for someone lit up a cigarette.
–Look, I rode the bus by myself and I don't need a babysitter,†Alexandra said with deliberate rudeness. The woman meant well, but the last thing Alexandra needed was a well-meaning adult trying to look after her.
The woman made fishy gaping motions with her mouth, then said, –You must have some aunt who puts up with that!†She walked off muttering indignantly to herself.
Alexandra looked around. Farewell was about the size of Larkin Mills, but the downtown area was smaller and less populated, especially at midnight. She could see three motels within walking distance, all flashing neon 'Vacancy' lights. She walked toward the nearest one, adding up her remaining funds and realizing her cash on hand would just barely pay for one night, even if she could convince a check-in clerk that she was old enough to rent a motel room.
–Gave up on your aunt?†someone asked, clapping a hand on her shoulder. She spun around. It was the man who'd been smoking at the bus stop. He'd followed her.
–What's it to you?†Alexandra said. –Buzz off.â€
He laughed. He was a tall man in a cheap suit, with lanky hair hanging around his face beneath a wide-brimmed hat. She didn't like his laugh at all. –You are a little spitfire, aren't you? Looking for a place to stay?â€
–No.†She shook his hand off and resumed walking, but he caught her shoulder again.
–Runaway?†he asked.
–Take your hand off me or I'll scream,†she said.
–What will you tell the police?†he asked. –That you're waiting for your aunt to pick you up?â€
–I'm not going anywhere with you.†She tried to show only implacable calm, but her hand, already in her pocket, fingers wrapped around her wand, was sweaty despite the cold night.
He laughed again, and took a drag from his cigarette. –Sweetheart, you're looking for something, but you've got no idea what you're doing here, do you? I know that look.â€
–Oh yeah?†Her foot came forward, aiming for his knee, but he twisted and she only caught his shin, wrapped in shiny boot-leather.
He spat out his cigarette and threw her to the ground. –Dammit, you little -â€
He blinked stupidly at her for a moment when he saw the wand pointed at him, and then she said, –Caedarus!â€
The green ball of light smacking into his face sounded like a basketball being kicked against a wall. He flew, landed, and was still. His hat rolled into the street.
Alexandra staggered to her feet and walked over to him. His lips and nose were bloody and his eyes were already swelling shut. At Charmbridge, he'd be up and about after some attention from Mrs. Murphy. Here, Alexandra thought he'd probably look like he came out the loser in a boxing match for a week or two. She needed to get out of here before someone saw them.
Her heart was hammering as she ran down the street away from the prone figure. She half-expected to see Aurors popping out of the darkness at any second. She got all the way to the nearest motel parking lot and hid in the shadows beneath a concrete stairwell, watching down the street. The man began moving again and picked himself up slowly off the sidewalk. No law enforcement officers, Muggle or wizard, arrived. The man looked around and stumbled off down the street. Alexandra turned away and crept along the darkened walkway in front of the motel. She found a room with no car parked in front of it and no light, and pressed her ear to the door. She heard nothing. Holding her breath, she cast an Unlocking Charm. The door handle clacked and she gave it a twist.
The room was dark and she entered carefully, praying no one would start screaming, but the slice of light falling across the bed showed that it was neatly made and empty, waiting for an occupant. She closed the door, locked it, and threw the deadbolt. If some late traveler should happen to check into this room in the middle of the night, she'd have to deal with it somehow, but she was tired and this was the first bed she'd seen in almost forty-eight hours. Without turning on any lights, she peeled off her jacket, kicked off her boots, and slid beneath the covers, keeping her wand clutched in her hand. She slept fitfully, awakening every time she heard a truck rumble by on the highway or imagined footsteps outside her room.