Witch and Wizard_ The Fire - James Patterson [40]
I still love Celia, and I don’t know exactly what I feel for Janine, but I do know that I’ve missed her more than I thought was physically possible, and I didn’t understand that until this minute. Her serious, intelligent face, free of makeup but prettier than any movie star’s. Her smart ideas. Her strength. I don’t want to ever let her go again.
“Jamilla said … I thought …,” I whisper, still overwhelmed. “How did you end up here?”
“The Resistance tried to escape in the Shadowland,” she answers. “Whit, we looked for you. We waited and we searched. I didn’t want to leave you behind, but the N.O. was everywhere in the Overworld, and you and Wisty were on all the posters, so we thought you’d gone into hiding and —”
“Shh … it’s okay. We didn’t know how to find you guys either. Everything just got so turned around. … Are Emmet and Sasha here, too?” I ask, looking around for their familiar faces. “Did they make it out?”
Her eyes fill with tears, and she brushes them away angrily. “I don’t know. We were split up. I had everything mapped out! We had a plan to get all the kids through to another portal, and Emmet went ahead to scout the path …”
More tears escape, and her cheeks flush in frustration as she continues. “But we got turned around in the fog and just couldn’t get away from them.” She nods at the Lost Ones. “I’ve been racking my brains to figure out what their plans are for us. But it’s as if they’re hungry dogs following a familiar scent home. They’ve just been hauling us around on these ropes for days, and I think —” Janine flinches uncharacteristically, her eyes widening. “I think they’re going to feast on us.”
I glance over at the ghouls, still ravaging the bodies of the small animals, and shudder.
“No.” I shake my head. “That’s not … that can’t happen, Janine. I won’t let —”
Janine shakes her head sadly. “We’re too far in. There’s no way out.” Her sage-green eyes, once so sharp and full of life, seem resigned. “Look, I’m tired of fighting. Can you just … hold me right now, Whit?”
I nod and wrap my arms around her, my chin resting on her cheek, her warm body against mine.
We may not have much time left, but for now we’ve got this.
Chapter 43
Wisty
MY HAIR IS being yanked, the rope’s been tied too tight, and someone keeps kicking me in the heels. As a result of said kicking, I’ve fallen twice, leaving my left knee bloody and my temper fuming.
Kids trained in torture. I hate the New Order.
The Youth Troop, minus Byron Swain — who has disappeared, leaving me absolutely freaking out, once again, about whether he’s actually working for them or us — drags me across the busy courtyard with soldiers practicing endless drills, through three heavily bolted metal doors (reminiscent of my prison days), and finally into the leader’s office inside the New Order compound.
“Found this one prowling the streets, General,” the snotty girl with the tight ponytail reports, standing at attention. “She wants to join the Youth Troop.” She’s unable to keep the venom out of her voice. “We thought you could … take care of her.”
“Thank you, Genevieve.” The general sighs from his chair facing the window, clearly annoyed with the disturbance. He’s a large man, with black hair slicked back over his receding hairline. “That will be all.”
Genevieve looks disappointed at not being recognized for her achievement, but she nods and follows the others out the door.
The lock clicks into place, and we sit in silence for a few moments, the general still facing the window. I take in the office, every object in it tidy and obsessively arranged. Grubby teddy bears and dolls line the bookshelves like trophies in a taxidermy, and I imagine the small hands those dolls must have been ripped from.
Then, abruptly, the leader spins around and fixes me with a long stare, one of his eyes made of glass and motionless. It’s extremely unnerving.
He looks at my mussed-up hair and my bloody knee, and an expression of blatant revulsion distorts his face. “I suppose you have something to say