Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“This might be one of our worst ideas,” Ramona said for the third time that evening.
“You’ve mentioned that,” Zara replied with the same calm efficiency she brought to everything. “Multiple times.”
“I’m just saying—”
“You’re spiraling.” Zara’s hand found Ramona’s knee and squeezed gently as they sat in the car just outside of campus. “We have a plan. We have the key. We’ve studied the guard schedules. This is going to work.”
Ramona stared out the window at the streetlights. It was past eleven — late enough that Thornwood’s campus should be mostly empty. Just a skeleton security crew doing rounds. Faculty long gone for the weekend.
But still.
“What if someone recognizes me?”
“They won’t.”
Ramona fidgeted with her skirt hem, tugging at her tights. “What if the wards reject me even with the key?”
“They won’t.”
“What if—”
“Ramona.” Zara’s voice was firm but gentle. “Breathe.”
Ramona tried. Failed. Tried again. Her chest felt too tight, her hands too shaky.
They were about to break into Thornwood Academy — the place that had expelled her, the place where everyone knew her face, knew what she’d done, knew exactly why she shouldn’t be there. “I need a disguise,” she said suddenly.
Zara glanced at her. “A what?”
“A disguise. Something so people don’t recognize me.” Ramona was already digging through her bag, the one she’d packed with “just in case” items. “I brought… Hold on.” She pulled out sunglasses. Large, dark sunglasses that covered half her face.
“Ramona—”
Then a hat. A wide-brimmed hat she’d grabbed from the back of her closet.
“Ramona, you don’t need—”
And finally, a scarf. A large, patterned scarf that she immediately wrapped around her lower face, covering her nose and mouth. She adjusted the sunglasses. Tilted the hat. Checked her reflection in the passenger-side mirror. “There,” she said. “Perfect.”
Zara was staring at Ramona with an expression that was carefully, deliberately neutral.
“What?” Ramona asked.
“You look like a cartoon spy, Mortal.”
“I look disguised.”
“You look like you’re about to rob a bank in a very obvious manner.” Zara’s lips were twitching. “Or like you’re hiding from paparazzi. Badly.”
“It’s working!”
“It’s absolutely not.” Zara reached out, touched the brim of the hat. “If anything, you’re drawing more attention to yourself. No one dresses like this unless they’re trying to hide something.”
“Exactly. So they won’t know it’s me.”
“They’ll know something is wrong with you.” Zara’s voice was gentle, but she was definitely trying not to laugh. “Darling, you cannot walk into Thornwood looking like this.”
“Why not?”
“Because you look ridiculous.” Zara said it fondly, like it was an endearment. “Adorable, but ridiculous.”
“I’m being strategic—”
“You’re panicking.” Zara reached out, started unwinding the scarf. “And normally I find that very endearing, but this is not going to work.”
Ramona let her remove the scarf. Then the hat. But she kept her hands on the sunglasses. “I need something,” she said. Her voice came out smaller than intended. “Everyone there knows my face. Everyone knows what I did. If someone sees me—”
“Then we’ll handle it.” Zara’s hands came up to cup her face. “But not like this.”
“Then how?”
Zara was quiet for a moment, studying Ramona’s face. “I’m going to use my powers. Very minimally, but it’s a risk.”
“A risk?” Ramona asked.
“It might trigger something in Thornwood’s wards,” Zara explained. “That’s why it would be wise to do it here, outside of the grounds.”
Ramona nodded. “And while the convergence point is already corrupted and probably already taxing the wards.”
“Do you trust me?” Zara asked.
Ramona sighed. “Yes, but I’m nervous you’re asking that question.”
“Then hold still.”
Zara’s hands were still on Ramona’s face. Her expression shifted into that look of concentration she got when using magic — eyes slightly unfocused, breathing steady and deep.
Ramona felt the magic wash over her like cool water. Not uncomfortable, just strange. A gentle pressure against her skin, a tingling sensation that started at her scalp and moved down her face, her neck. “What are you—”
“Shh. Almost done.” The sensation faded. Zara’s hands dropped away, and she was looking at Ramona with satisfaction. “There,” Zara said. “Much better.”
“What did you do?” Ramona reached for the mirror, angled it to see her reflection.
The face staring back at her was… not hers.
Still her, in a way. The same basic structure, the same general features. But different enough that no one would recognize her. Blonde hair instead of dark. Slightly different nose. Eyes a lighter shade. The kind of face that was pretty in a generic, forgettable way.
“You made me blonde,” Ramona said, unamused.
“I made you unrecognizable,” Zara corrected. “The blonde is because no one would ever expect a blonde Ramona.”
“Oh, so you’d prefer me blonde?” Ramona deadpanned.
“I didn’t say that.” But Zara was smiling. “It’s temporary. The glamour will fade in a few hours, but it should be enough to get us in and out without anyone recognizing you.” Zara paused, a fang appearing as she bit her lip.
Ramona felt a pulse of attraction through the tether. Her eyes went wide. “Stop looking at me like that.”
“You’re not a bad blonde,” Zara teased, her hand sliding over Ramona’s shoulders. “You know, maybe if the glamour doesn’t wear off, when we get back to the car—”
Ramona laughed, slapping at Zara’s hand. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence. We’re about to do something extremely important and dangerous, and I cannot be this turned on already.”
“So, you admit you are a little turned on thinking about it,” Zara quipped.
“Stop it,” Ramona scolded again, but she was laughing. She was definitely not thinking about Zara’s dark nails pulling her blonde hair.
Zara faced forward again, but a wry grin was still on her lips.
Ramona stared at her reflection. At the stranger wearing her clothes, sitting in her seat. “It’s weird,” she said.
“It’s effective.” Zara turned the key in the ignition, and it gave a hiccup of noncompliance before starting. She pulled back onto the road. “And significantly less conspicuous than the sunglasses-hat-scarf combination.”
“I liked the sunglasses.”
“I know you did.” Zara’s hand found hers again, squeezed. “But this way, you can actually see where you’re going.”
Ramona looked at herself one more time in the mirror. She smoothed her shirt. She cleared her mind of the visions of Zara tugging her into the backseat. The blonde stranger looked back — nervous, determined, completely unrecognizable. “Okay,” she said. “Okay. Let’s do this.”
Thornwood Academy looked even more imposing at night — Gothic architecture turned into sharp shadows, the main building looming against the dark sky. Enchanted security lights illuminated the grounds in pools of harsh white light, creating corridors of darkness between them.
Ramona’s stomach clenched. She’d loved this place once. Had felt privileged to work here, to teach here. Now she was sneaking in through a side entrance like a criminal.
They parked in the visitor lot — far enough from the main building to avoid immediate attention, close enough for a quick escape if needed. The campus was quiet. Almost eerily so.
“Felix disabled the cameras on the east wing,” Zara said, checking her phone. “We have a ten-minute window before the security guard makes his rounds past that entrance.”
“Ten minutes to get inside, find the archives, and then wait for the lights protocol.”
Zara nodded. “Get in, get near the right section, then wait twenty minutes for the lights to shut off without movement. They won’t turn on again without the doorway triggered.”
Ramona checked her tiny pen flashlight. Trying to summon a light globe was too risky given her magic was forbidden from Thornwood, and she wouldn’t dare let Zara use magic inside the wards.
“We’ll have longer once we’re in. The guard doesn’t patrol the library stacks. Just the main corridors.” Zara pocketed her phone. “Ready?”
Ramona wasn’t. But she nodded anyway.
They moved quickly across the lawn, staying in the shadows between security lights. The key worked on the side entrance — Eleanor’s access was comprehensive. The door clicked open softly.
Inside, the hallway was dark. Emergency lighting cast everything in dim red. Their footsteps echoed on the polished floor.
“This way,” Ramona whispered.
They moved through familiar corridors. Ramona’s heart hammered with every step. Any moment, someone could round a corner. Any moment, a guard could appear. Any moment—
“Ramona.” Zara’s hand found hers. “Breathe.”
Right. Breathing.
They made it to the main library without incident. The vast room was dark, lit only by emergency exits and the faint glow of enchanted preservation wards on the oldest texts. Shadows stretched across empty tables and abandoned study carrels.
No one was here. The library was closed for the night.
Ramona kept moving toward the back, toward the restricted section where the stairs to the archives were hidden behind reference stacks.
The archive entrance was locked by another warded door, but Eleanor’s key worked here, too, the enchantment recognizing the authorization.
The stairs down were narrow, dimly lit by magical sconces that activated as they descended. The air grew cooler, carrying that particular smell of old books and preserved parchment.
The archives.
The door at the bottom opened into a vast room filled with floor-to-ceiling shelves, stretching back into shadows. Medieval grimoires, dangerous texts, everything too powerful for general access.
Ramona pointed. “We need to get to that section to wait out the lights, so we don’t trigger them back on by walking in the main walkway.”
Zara nodded, following Ramona’s lead.
“Come on.” Zara grabbed Ramona’s hand, pulled her deeper into the stacks, into the narrow space between shelves where shadows were thickest.