Silver Shadows (Bloodlines, #5)(50)

“She better. You and I kept her out of purging today. Hey, where are you going?”

We’d almost reached the cafeteria, but I had started to turn away. “The only place a girl can get some privacy. I’ll join you soon.”

I stepped into a nearby hall that contained restrooms. I was entitled to visit them on my lunch break, so long as I didn’t linger and catch someone’s attention. While there were cameras in the bathroom’s main area (I think they were afraid someone might break a mirror and use it as a weapon), the individual stalls offered one of the few private areas in the facility. I shut the door to one and worked quickly, knowing I had limited time.

It had been months since I’d used magic, but I was surprised at how naturally and quickly it came back to me. I pulled out my precious packet of salt and carefully poured it into the syringe’s main compartment, giving me a much better storage container as I began the charming process. First was earth. I’d purposely touched my teacher’s potted plant in our last class, getting dirt on my fingers. From that, I was able to summon the essence of earth, murmuring the words that drew out its power and sending it to the salt. A rush of exhilaration seized me as the magic took hold, and I nearly gasped. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed it or how alive I felt using it. It was especially noticeable after living in a hellish place like this.

Summoning air was next, which was also easy, seeing as it was everywhere. Water was also easy, since I had a toilet right in front of me, and I didn’t have any sanitation concerns since I was only calling on magical properties and not using any actual water in the compound—yet. Fire proved to be the most difficult, seeing as the Alchemists didn’t exactly leave matches within our reach. That was no surprise since, as far as I could tell, this place was one enormous fire hazard. There was no easily accessible source for elemental fire, so I had to create my own.

Ms. Terwilliger had grilled me in casting fireball spells, and I had excellent control over them. With a few whispered words, I called on that spell now, summoning just a spark of flame in my palm, barely enough to be seen. Its essence was strong enough, however, for me to pull its elemental power into the rest of the salt compound. Once that was done, I made the mini-fireball disappear.

Carefully concealing the syringe in one hand, I flushed the toilet and stepped out of the stall.

As I washed my hands, I was surprised that I felt a little dizzy. Being out of practice had taken its toll, especially having to summon fire rather than just take it from the environment. Still, that weariness was juxtaposed with that early heady feeling of bliss that magic use brought. Enhancing it was the knowledge that I wasn’t powerless, that I had the ability to help someone else and thwart the Alchemist agenda. That was a high in its own right.

When I reached the cafeteria and approached Duncan’s table with my tray, everyone appeared to be in light, easy conversation. Once I sat down, I could sense the unspoken tension among them. They continued talking about some earlier topic from history, though I could tell none of them were really into it. At last, smiling as though we were just kids at a regular high school with ordinary concerns, Jonah said, “Addison told me as I was walking in here to skip art class. She said Sheridan was going to meet me outside the room.”

A cloud fell over us at the subtext. “They didn’t waste any time,” muttered Lacey. Her eyes flicked to me. “Did this morning’s shenanigans pay off?”

“Kind of,” I said, pitching my voice low as I stirred up my manicotti. My stomach wasn’t quite as bad as Duncan’s, but I still decided to stick to the blander side dishes. “I got the syringe. The salt’s in it, ready to go. I just don’t have a purified source of water to mix the solution. It’d also be best if we could’ve boiled the salt in,” I added, “but a brisk shaking should do it if we can get the water. The teachers always have bottled water. Maybe we can steal some of theirs.”

“No time,” said Jonah. “Give me the syringe. I’ll fill it with tap in the bathroom if someone’ll block me from the camera.”

I winced. “You have to inject that into your skin. You don’t want tap water.”

“The stuff’s drinkable,” he countered. “And it can’t be any worse than what they’re planning on injecting me with. I’ll take my chances.”

My sanitary sensibilities still resisted. “I wish we had more time.”

“We don’t,” he said bluntly. “You’ve done a lot, and I’m grateful. Now it’s my turn to take the risks. Slip me the syringe on our way out of here. Is there anything special I need to do with it? Aside from the obvious?”

I shook my head, still frustrated but knowing he was right. “Inject small amounts into your tattoo, just like they do with re-inking. You don’t have to be precise. There’ll be enough of it in your system to negate what’s in their compelled ink.”

“What is in your solution?” asked Elsa.

“Don’t answer that,” warned Duncan. “The less we know, the better for all of us—especially Sydney.”

When the meal ended, our tablemates purposely crowded around Jonah and me as we waited to return our trays, allowing me to make the syringe pass. After that, it was literally out of my hands. I had to trust that Jonah would find a way to mix the solution with water on his own and inject himself before they came for him.