Page 17 of Every Shade of Shadow

There’s a sharp prick against my neck. I glance down and left, can only see the end of the hypodermic needle the driver’s holding against me.

No.

No, no, no.

My fingers go numb, the flute slipping from my grasp and shattering on the tarmac, the stem cartwheeling away.

Son of a bitch.

Cold swims up from my feet so all-encompassing it’s sucks the air from my lungs.

The driver catches me as I buckle. "There, there," he murmurs, easing me to the ground. Darkness clouds the edge of my vision, closing in fast.

The last thing I'm aware of is the crunch of glass underneath me, how incredibly polished this guy’s shoes are, before everything turns into a thick, endless black.

CHAPTER SIX

I wake dizzy and lightheaded, immediately reaching for the side of my neck, but there’s nothing there save for a small pinprick of pain.

I must have been knocked out good, because outside the plane is descending through heavy clouds. I spot thin threads of fog shifting past the window, dissolving into the air.

I suddenly realize what the hell is happening, survival instincts kicking into overdrive.

Why would someone dose me to get on a plane? I was quite happy to do that of my own free will.

I reach for my belt buckle. A large hand enters my line of sight from the left. It lands on top of mine.

I look up into the eyes of the driver, who’s smiling. “My apologies for that, Ms. Fairchild, but it’s imperative the location of the Academy remain a secret.”

“You drugged me?” I say, the words wooly and loose in my mouth.

“Yes, a necessary evil, and I apologize for the ruse,” he smiles, “but for now, enjoy the view. We’re almost there.”

His hand lifts.

We break through at the last second, revealing a thick blanket of fog shrouding rolling green hills. The plane slows, drifting over a dense forest and crumbling stone walls.

One thing’s for damn sure.

This ain’t New York.

A vast castle comes into view, its spires piercing the mist like gnarled fingers. My breath catches at the sight of the gargoyles and turrets silhouetted against the soupy sky beyond.

This has to be it.

Lumina.

My new home.

Or so I hope.

Dangerous word that, I warn myself.

The plane circles the castle once before landing on a narrow airstrip at the edge of the forest. When the doors open, a blast of chill air scented with moss and pine washes over me. But this is nothing like standing on the air strip back home. No, this air is seriously, seriously fucking cold.

I don’t even know if we’re in the US anymore and I doubt Lurch would tell me if we were.

At his insistence, I descend the stairs on shaky legs, clutching myself. A severe-looking woman in emerald robes waits at the bottom, hands clasped before her. She somehow manages to look both modern and dated at once—a pleasant contradiction.

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