Chapter 15
It’s far too early for me to be awake after a late night and a very, very long shower, but don’t let anyone say I’m not dedicated. Wayne is already waiting for me by Petunia’s pen, in which, I see with no small amount of resentment, my pig is snoozing comfortably.
Sure. He gets to sleep in.
“Come on. I want to get some practice in the actual ring you’ll use tomorrow. Get any distractions out of the way now,” Wayne says.
I glance over at the one and only show ring, the same one we’ve been practicing in for the past few days. “The actual ring?”
“Yeah. Over in the show barn.” He starts opening Petunia’s pen. The pig opens one eye and watches us warily.
I stop him from getting the door open completely. “Wayne, this is the show barn.”
He snorts. “This is a show barn. Did you really think this was big enough for tomorrow’s show?”
My heart nearly stutters to a stop in my chest. “Show me,” I say in a voice I hardly recognize. “Now.”
It’s bad.
It’s very, very bad.
If I thought the barn we’d been practicing in was big but doable, the show barn we’ll apparently be using tomorrow is in a world all its own. It must be at least twice as big as the other barn, but that’s not the only problem.
Multiple entrances and exits. High-walled pens that don’t give much visibility over them. Concession stands lining the sides, in which anyone could hide anything out of view.
It’s a security nightmare when considering mundane threats. Add in a magical being with the skills The Witch possesses, and this place is a literal death trap.
I swear under my breath.
“Fudge,” Wayne says.
“What?”
He looks at me reproachfully. “My dad says it’s much more respectful to say ‘fudge’ than what you just said.”
I turn to face him. He’s exactly what I’m worried about. Just a kid doing what he loves. Tomorrow, this massive building will be filled with hundreds of innocent people just like Wayne.
And I’m about to fail them all.
I put one hand on his thin shoulder. “Respectfully, Wayne, in this case, I definitely don’t mean ‘fudge.’”
I walk away, leaving him standing there alone in the barn. I don’t go back to the old barn, either. I don’t think I can bear to see everyone working hard to get ready for the show tomorrow when I already know what I have to do.
I walk and walk, leaving the path behind to plunge right into the heart of the park.
It’s still pleasantly cool, and I’m glad that I’m wearing thick boots to keep the dew from soaking through to my feet.
The sun is up but still weak, and a few small butterflies take advantage of the teeny yellow wildflowers dotting the grass.
The trees seem to close behind me, cutting me off from everyone else involved in the show.
It’s only then that I pull out my cellphone, staring at it in my hand.
Don’t do this, Jensen.
“I don’t have a choice,” I whisper.
You’ll be giving up everything.
“I know.”
You’ll be a failure. Is that what you want to be?
No. Of course I don’t want to be a failure. But the alternative is to risk letting The Witch pull this off. And I can’t have the deaths of who-knows-how-many people on my hands.
I scroll through my contacts until I reach the one I need and hit the call button.
Cressida answers on the third ring. “Give me good news, Jensen. You got her?”
“No, but—”
“Then why are you bothering me?”
I swallow hard. “Captain, I just got a look at the venue and this isn’t going to work.”
There’s a silence so cold I’m pretty sure my little finger gets frostbite just from touching the phone. “You just now looked at the venue? What have you been doing this whole time?”
Didn’t I tell you not to screw this up?
It’s fantastic to have both Cressida and my own Cressida-coded inner voice chastising me at the same time. “I didn’t realize there were multiple barns,” I say, knowing I sound like the world’s dumbest rookie. Maybe if I hadn’t been so distracted by Grayson and those stupid gray sweatpants…
“You know what? It doesn’t matter.” The phone must shift slightly away from her mouth because her next words are slightly muffled. “This is my fault for sending you instead of literally anyone else at the agency.”
I wait for inner-voice Cressida to add something, but she seems satisfied with that. “I screwed up, Captain. I know that. But I can’t protect the participants. We have to cancel the show.”
Her burst of laughter is as surprising and chilling as gunfire. “Cancel the show? We’re not doing that. This is the best chance we’ve had in years to catch The Witch. We’re taking it.”
I freeze, standing there on a slight rise, the roof of the smaller show barn visible over the trees. “Captain, moving forward with the show is a mistake.”
“Unlike you, Jensen, I never make mistakes. Do you know how long I’ve been chasing The Witch?”
Of course I know. Everyone knows. But I can’t help how my voice rises ever so slightly at the end, like I’m asking a question. “Ten years?”
“Ten years, four months, two weeks, three days, six hours and”—there’s a pause while I assume she glances at the time—“seventeen minutes. I’m only going to tell you this one more time: We are not cancelling this show.”
Understanding dawns on me. “You’re using me as bait.”
“Don’t take it personally, Jensen. I’m using everyone at the show as bait. Don’t screw this up.”
The click as she hangs up is soft, but it feels almost like an explosion.