Chapter 14
Flint
Normally, I love flying long distances—I mean, what’s not to love? Wide-open spaces, a beautiful night sky, the moonlit ocean sparkling below us?
Tonight, though, I just want to get to Turin so this torture can end. And it is torture flying next to Jaxon right now. In fact, it’s torture being anywhere near him after our breakup.
Usually, when we’re soaring twenty-five thousand feet above the earth, we have a lot of fun. Racing, diving, challenging each other and whoever’s with us—usually Eden and sometimes Grace—to see who can do the wildest, most daredevil stunts.
But everything about tonight’s flight is a nightmare, starting with the awkwardness that seems to suck all the energy from the air we’re flying through and continuing with the fact that Jaxon won’t even look at me.
Not that I want him to look at me. Not when it hurts to breathe, hurts to think, hurts to just exist.
Part of me wants to take it all back, to beg him to stay or to let me come with him—to London, to California, to wherever he wants to go.
I know I said I was done with him and that he could get the hell out, but it’s a lot easier to say that than it is to live with it.
Especially when I have to spend the next however many days in close proximity to him.
But even as I think that—dream it—I know things had to happen the way they did. Because the truth is, Jaxon had already made up his mind to go. Better to have a say in how and when than to just wait around for him to leave only to beg him to stay.
Except I did that, too.
Humiliation burns through me at the memory. Although, if I’m being honest, it’s just one more in a long line of humiliations I’ve dealt with in the time I’ve known Jaxon Vega. Why should kicking him out of my life be any less humiliating than loving him for the last several years has been?
Fuck it. Dwelling on this over and over again for the next twelve hours is just going to make me feel worse than I already do.
So I shove everything I can’t change out of my mind and just give my dragon his head—better to hide deep inside him where there’s at least some kind of isolation from the pain.
And if he also happens to shoot a particularly hot stream of flames straight at Jaxon’s ass, who am I to criticize?
Especially when Jaxon’s dragon yelps like a scalded cat, then promptly drops back to limit my access and his vulnerability.
It’s a win-win. Not having to look at him anymore lets both my dragon and me relax.
And that makes the flight go much faster and more smoothly.
My mind—and heart—need the break, and it’s good to know I can carve out a way to have one, considering Jaxon and I are going to be spending way more of the next few days together than I would like.
We finally reach Turin around four in the afternoon, local time. The sun is still out, and I worry that the blood Jaxon drank from me the night he was injured might cause him problems, but he seems fine. I guess with all the flying, he metabolized it faster than usual.
As we walk through the piazza with all of its dramatic baroque architecture, I start to text Macy to let her know we’re here, but Jaxon stops me.
“That’s not going to work—Grace says she’s currently on phone and portal lockdown.”
“That would explain why she hasn’t answered any of my texts.” I shoot him a look. “Although if she’s grounded, what makes you think Foster’s going to let her run halfway across the world to San Diego and then the Shadow Realm?”
“Grace seems to think there’s a chance,” he answers. “Besides, if we end up having to go against shadow magic to get Mekhi, having a witch on our side who’s as strong as Macy can only help.”
Just because he’s right doesn’t stop me from wanting to argue with him. But that won’t get us anywhere good, so I just shrug as I walk along the elaborate iron fence that surrounds the Witch Court until we get to its even more elaborate gate.
“You ready for this?” Jaxon asks as I push it open and step into the courtyard.
“Pretty sure they don’t actually use dragon eyes in any of their spells,” I shoot back.
“That’s not what I was talking about.” He raises a hand to knock on the door, but it opens just as his knuckles touch the gold filigree.
Only to reveal everyone’s non-favorite witch, Valentina. Even though it’s the middle of the afternoon here, she’s dressed in a long, purple gown with her now-icy-blond hair piled on top her head in an intricate updo.
The last time we were here—when we were asking the king and queen for help freeing Katmere students from the Vampire Court dungeon—she threatened to kill us. I can only hope today’s visit goes a little more smoothly.
Though the expression on her face as she looks us over isn’t encouraging. And neither are her words of welcome. “I’d say look what the cat dragged in,” she hisses after several seconds, “but our cats have better taste.”
“Well, they haven’t eaten you yet, so I’d have to agree,” I retort. “Though hope springs eternal.”
Her emerald green eyes narrow. “Careful, dragon. We may not use eyes in our spells, but there’s a lot we can do with a dragon tail.”
“Good thing I’m a vampire, then,” Jaxon intervenes, fangs bared.
I start to tell him I don’t need him to defend me, but it’s always best to present a united front at the Witch Court. They don’t have the same brutal arrogance that the Vampire Court is known for, but they do have the same ends-justify-the-means mentality.
It definitely pays to be on their good side.
With that thought in mind, I shoulder Jaxon out of the way as I shoot Valentina my most charming grin. “We’re not here in any royal capacity today,” I tell her, because it can’t hurt to remind her who she is dealing with. “We just want to see Macy.”
“Oh goody,” she answers. But she does swing the door open wide enough for us to enter, so I call that a win. “I believe her family’s quarters are on the third floor. Camera trecentonove.”
She gives us one more superior look before sweeping away in a swish of violet silk.
“That’s 309, right?” I ask Jaxon. He’s always been much better at languages than I am, much to my chagrin.
“Yeah,” he answers, his dark eyes searching mine until I turn away and head for the curved gold staircase that should take us to the third floor.
I take the stairs three at a time—the sooner I get to Macy, the sooner I won’t have to be alone with Jaxon.
It only takes us a couple of minutes to find the Fosters’ suite. I start to knock, but the door swings open before I can—what is it with these witches, anyway?
I come eye to eye with my old headmaster, who takes one look at Jaxon and me and says, “Macy isn’t going anywhere.”