I'll admit I lose my cool a little when I see the hotel room, and about fifteen years of my mom's genealogical research scattered around the room, ripped right out of the binder by a magical whirlwind.

Adam's pretty apologetic and offers to help put it all back in order, but I tell him not to touch anything and start passive-aggressively picking it all up off the floor by myself.

My mood isn't much improved when I find that he's eaten most of the pizza by himself, but I guess that was my own fault. I can put away half a large pizza on my own, and I've seen Adam at lunch at St. Bosco's enough to know that he eats enough for two or three people.

I order a second pizza and keep attempting to reorganize my mom's research, making what feels like hardly any progress at all when the delivery guy shows up twenty minutes later.

I stop to eat, and only then do I grab my phone from where I had left it on the bed before storming out of the room earlier and check my messages.

My stomach drops as I see six missed calls and fifteen texts from Eleanor Fuentes.

I quickly scroll through the texts first.

Answer the phone

Pick up, it's an emergency

Where tf r u?

There's been a raid

Srsly where r u?

ANSWER UR PHONE

Felix

Felix

Felix

Felix

FELIX

This is SERIOUS where r u guys?

IM FREAKING OUT RIGHT NOW EVERYONE IS ASKING ME WHERE ADAM IS

Ms Cross is gonna be here soon, I need u to CALL ME ASAP

4 fuck's sake WHERE R U?????

I don't bother with the messages, I just call her back right away.

The phone rings.

And rings.

And rings.

“This is Eleanor Fuentes, leave a message.”

I hit the call back button and try again without leaving a message.

Adam notices, in my expression or my body language or something, that something is wrong.

“What is it?” he asks, but I wave a hand to shut him up.

It goes to her voicemail again, and this time I wait until the beep.

“This is Felix. I just got your texts, call me.”

I hang up, and go back to my own voicemail. Out of six missed calls, she's left five messages. I listen to the first.

“Oh my god, oh my god, this is serious guys... I have to make this quick, I've snuck away for just a second but my parents are freaking out and they'll lose their shit if they think I'm gone too. Morgana's tits, my house was raided! The fucking MRF showed up, they came to the house! Like ten of them kicked down the door and raided my damned house! They're looking for Adam. We didn't even know it was happening until they had us surrounded in our living room. My parents were actually going to fight to keep them from looking for Adam, so I had to tell them that he wasn't here anymore. They know I know where he is. Shit, there's my parents, I have to go. Don't call me yet, I'll let you know when I can talk.”

Second message.

“Okay, I have a moment to talk. Call me when you get this.”

Third message.

“Where the hell are you guys, answer the phone! I probably won't have long to talk. My parents called Ms. Cross, she'll be here soon, and my parents are already asking me where Adam is. It was all so insane, they tore the entire place apart while telling us that they weren't going to hurt us and that they aren't the bad guys and all that bullshit... They were pissed though when they didn't find Adam, and then they just took off, vanishing into thin fucking air. They were powerful, really powerful. If they find out where you guys are, you'll be in serious trouble. Okay, I have to go before anyone notices I'm on the phone. My parents have been trying to get me to tell them where Adam is, and I think they suspect I'm in contact with him somehow. I've been deleting all these texts and messages and stuff, but I don't know how long I can keep them in the dark if they're serious about finding him.”

Fourth message.

“Okay, seriously, answer the phone! What are you doing? I told you to keep your phone on you at all times! FOR THIS EXACT REASON! I HAVE to talk to you and Adam, this is serious!”

Final message.

“I'm in the bathroom, Ms. Cross is here. She's flipping out and she knows I'm lying that I don't know where Adam is. She's trying to find something of Adam's to use a tracking spell on. You guys don't have much more time. Text me when get these messages, something random that looks innocent about school or some shit. KEEP YOUR PHONE ON YOU FOR FUCK'S SAKE and I'll call you the second I have the chance.”

“What the fuck is going on?” Adam demands, so loudly he's nearly shouting.

“The MRF raided Eleanor's house, trying to find you,” I say, tossing my phone at him.

“I—what?” he stammers, so shocked that he fumbles the catch and drops my phone. He stoops to snatch it back up and starts scrolling through the texts.

“They're all fine, but the situation just got a lot more serious. The MRF apparently have decided not to wait any longer, probably because after the school fire, you're in immediate danger of having your magic stripped by the Council and the MRF thinks it's either grab you now, or lose your powers forever. And Ms. Cross is about to try to track you too, which means if she can find so much as a stray hair from your head, she'll be on us in a couple of days. We have to find the staff before then.”

Adam is listening to the messages now, and his expression is growing more horrified with each one. Finally his hand drops, the phone held loosely in his hand dangling at his side. A tinny voice was still emanating from the speaker.

If you'd like to replay this messages, please press 1. If you'd like to return the message sender's call, please press 2. If you'd like to delete this message...

“They aren't going to stop,” he says. “I thought... Ms. Cross thought that they would just give up if I was gone, if I left the country. That it'd be too much trouble to track me down.”

“I think that was wishful thinking on her part,” I reply grimly.

Adam looks around the room, and I get the sudden impression of a caged tiger searching for a means of escape.

“I can't—I can't go back,” he says, and he says it almost numbly, like he's struggling to understand what the words mean. “If I go back, the MRF will come for me, or the Council will. I can't go back.”

I cross the room to stand beside Adam, and I place my hands on his shoulders, squeezing firmly. It makes me feel awkward, since we're really hardly even acquaintances, but it's obvious he's about to lose his cool at any moment. If he hadn't just used up an immense amount of magic in the garden, I'd be worried that I was in the line of fire. But even if that were the case, I'd still be here, trying to calm him down before it happened, rather than finding something to hide behind.

“You can go back,” I tell him, looking him in the eyes. They're wide and frightened, and greyish—not quite blue, and so pale that they seem washed out against his complexion. “Once we find Merlin's staff, you can go back and no one will be able to touch you. The Council won't be able to do a damn thing about your magic when you're able to control it properly, and you'll be so damn powerful that the MRF will never be able to force you to be a weapon for them unless you let them. I felt your magic, Adam. I felt how much you have access to. They would need an army to subdue you if you're in totally control of it.”

His mouth opens like he's about to protest, so I shake him a little.

“I'm serious!” I say. “We find the staff, and none of that matters anymore! So focus on that! Don't think about the rest of it. We're on the opposite side of the world from all that other crap, so there's no point in worrying about it right now. Let's just focus on finding the staff for now, okay? Can you do that, Adam?”

He's breathing hard through his nose, but the gleam of panic in his eyes is starting to fade a little.

“Y-yeah,” he finally says, and then he nods more certainly. “Yeah. Find the staff. We'll find the staff.”

I've talked him down from whatever internal ledge he was just standing on, but we remain like that for a few more seconds—facing each other with my hands on his shoulders. I'm looking him full in the face, and I'm suddenly aware how rarely I've done that in the past. There is a single freckle on the right side of his nose, which I've noticed often; and a small, pale scar on his upper lip, which I'm only just seeing for the first time. I think I know how he got it though, I wasn't far away in the cafeteria when his first wand exploded in sophomore year. I remember the surprised shrieks, and the blood running down his mouth and chin from where a bit of wood shrapnel had sliced his lip open. I hadn't realized that he still carried a scar from his first public failure.

He makes a small sound in the back of his throat, and I realize I'm just staring at his mouth. I pull my hands away from his shoulders like I've received an electric shock, and take a hasty step back.

“Okay,” I say, rubbing the back of my head distractedly. “Okay, good. That's the plan then. In the meantime I'm... I'm going to take a shower.”

I grab a change of clothes and lock myself in the hotel bathroom.