All That Lives Must Die - Eric Nylund [179]
Fiona nodded. No one but students and staff were allowed on campus by foot or by car, and apparently there were restrictions on the use of magic, too, to cross its boundaries. As if Paxington were its own little country. She remembered how Dallas and Kino had waited for her outside the school gates, which made sense only if even the gods were forbidden from entering.
What kind of agreement did Paxington have with the League and the Infernals and the mortal magical families that let them operate with that kind of autonomy?
She turned her attention to the warmth flowing from Mitch’s hand into hers. He’d picked the long, roundabout way to the gate. Was that because he had wanted to hold her hand for the pleasure of holding it? Wanted, as she did, to make it last as long as possible?
She squeezed his hand back. “Hey, normal walking—just fine with me,” she said.
“You looked like you had a lot on your mind coming out of the coliseum.”
“Oh, the girls and I were talking about our last three matches—trying to come up with strategies to deal with our missing Jezebel.”
Fiona omitted their discussion of the boy–boy–girl dynamics of Team Scarab, and how her personal relationships could potentially sink their team’s ranking.
Mitch nodded. “Jezebel missing isn’t a huge problem. Not anymore. Every team in second semester is down at least one person. Dropouts, injuries—happens every year.”
The walked past the pedunculate oak called the Hangman of London. Its giant shadow crossed their path, and fog blew through its twisting branches. It reminded her of the misty graveyards that led to the Borderlands.
Fiona definitely preferred the sunshine these days. She took a sip of the coffee to warm her. It was perfect: lots of cream and no sugar. Just how she liked it.
“If teams get too small, people get reassigned,” Mitch continued. “I have an aunt who’s a Paxington alumna, and she explained it all to me.”46
“You mean they could break up Scarab?”
What if she and Mitch, Robert, Amanda . . . or Eliot got reassigned to different teams? How could she ever compete against any of them?
“No worries. We’re only down one. And theoretically, Jezebel could show up any time. If she doesn’t, it’s more likely Scarab will pick up a straggler from another team.”
Then maybe Jezebel going missing could turn out to be a good thing. As an Infernal, she was the strongest person on their team, but that didn’t make up for being a monster. Not to mention the effect she had on Eliot.
The sun broke through the fog as they emerged near Bristlecone Hall, and they strode along the cobblestone path to the front gate.
It might all actually work out for the best. Fiona playfully swung her arm with Mitch’s.
Mr. Dells opened the gate. “Have a wonderful day, kids.” His laserlike gaze, however, carefully tracked Mitch as they left.
“We will,” Fiona told him.
As they approached the end of the thoroughfare, Mitch whispered, “Here we go. Hang on.” His smile vanished and intense concentration crossed his face.
There was vertigo, a flash of light, and a step—
—and the concrete sidewalk they were just walking upon was a path of granite strewn with pebbles and dust.
The air was clean and fresh and cold. Fiona blinked to adjust to the brighter light; she saw that they were on a mountain path. Flags and streamers fluttered along the precipitous edge. Titanic granite ridges jutted into a startling blue sky, and below them roiled clouds.
“Listen,” Mitch whispered.
Fiona cocked her head. In the distance echoed bird cries.
A flock of cranes broke through the clouds—hundreds of flashing wings and gray-blue feathers streamed up toward them, and then over their heads.
“It’s their spring migration,” Mitch explained. “They go right over the top of the Himalayas. Reminds me of what we do at school. All of us trying to get to the top.”
Fiona watched the flock flap through the thin air, higher and higher.
“Every year,” he said, “they struggle to get over this mountain. Some don’t. Some die. Are we the same? It’s