Page 37 of Shadow Scorching

“How long do you need to get ready?”

“Ideally, I’d do this on the new moon,” Penn said. “But that’s not possible. Since the full moon is coming up in a few days, I want to get this done before then. I can be ready by tomorrow night.” She consulted her planner. “I think that will be the most advantageous time on an astrological level. I’m going to need every positive aspect I can think of.”

“Is there anything we can do?” I asked.

“Today, I’ll make up the spell components I need for this. I don’t have anything already made that will do the trick. I’ll be spending the time in my office, working. Any chance you two can vacate the house while I work? The cats won’t bother me, but I need quiet energy for this.”

“Sure, we’ll get out of your hair.” I glanced outside. “I suppose we can go into the office,” I said, looking at Dante. “What do you think? There’s always paperwork to do. I told Sophia and the others to skip today if they can’t make it.”

“Let’s go to my house instead. I can take a shower, and you can contact Jet and see if you can set up a meeting. That always seems the next step.”

“You’re right, I guess. I wish we could pinpoint where he’s hiding and go have a long talk with him,” I muttered.

“Maybe there’s a way to find him.” He turned to Penn. “Can you trace people magically?”

“Not while I’m making what I need in order to combat the spirits,” she said, side-eying him.

“Heard,” he said, laughing. “Okay, let’s eat and then we’ll get out of your hair.”

We finished breakfast, then I made lattes to go for Dante and me, and we headed out to my car. As I bumped over the built-up ice and snow, out onto the street, I thought about how we were going to manage tomorrow night at Michael’s house. Because if one thing went wrong, we would all be in danger.

The main streets were plowed,but still slick.

“I can hardly wait to get into a shower,” Dante said.

One thing both of us had learned about leather pants over the years, is they picked up scent quickly, and given he had slept in his, he was a little punk at this point.

There wasn’t much traffic, for which I was grateful. Driving on snow and ice was harrowing enough, but when you were hemmed in by a lot of cars, it made it more nerve-wracking. I was a good driver, but snow was a major Achilles heel.

As I turned into the lot where Dante’s apartment building stood, I was grateful for the below ground parking garage. It was ice and snow free, and I managed to find a visitor’s parking spot near the elevator.

We usually opted for the stairs, but given he lived on the fourteenth floor, we took for the elevator. As we stepped out onto the hallway, the carpet—a durable indoor-outdoor weave—softened our footsteps. Dante had moved several times since we first met, and I often wondered why he didn’t buy a house. It wasn’t like he didn’t have the money, but he always chose to rent.

The Tremont Arms Apartments were fancy enough to offer him the amenities of a gym and a swimming pool, but it was reasonably priced. But I couldn’t do it. I’d had my fill of living in other people’s houses all through my childhood. I wanted a secure place that I could call my own.

“How long have you lived here?” I asked. “I forget.”

“About eight years now. I like it, and they’re good about fixing things.” He pulled out his key and we stopped in front of apartment 1438. He unlocked the door and, as soon as he was inside, he turned off the security code.

I followed him into the sixteen-hundred square foot apartment. With two bedrooms, it was spacious, especially for Seattle, and had a fantastic view. I walked over to the window. The Tremont Arms building was at a higher elevation, and eventhough the view was slightly obscured, from here, we could see Puget Sound.

I gazed out, watching the flakes flutter down. “When do you suppose the storm will clear?”

Dante was already stripping off his shirt and unzipping his pants as he headed toward his bedroom. “It’s supposed to turn to rain by Sunday night. So, a few more days. I’m going to grab a quick shower. Watch TV or whatever you want,” he said, shutting the door behind him.

I settled down on the sofa, picking up the remote. As I turned on the television, there was a breaking news alert. A news anchor was standing in front of a gate, where smoke was billowing out of a large building. The sounds of sirens echoed in the background.

“I’m standing in front of the Gul du Ger Magical Academy, where an explosion took place ten minutes ago,” the reporter said. “Fire and police officials are on site, and from what we understand, the FBI and the SAD—Supernatural Affairs Division—have been called. Right now, we do not know what caused the explosion, nor do we know the extent of the damages or whether there are any casualties. There have been injuries, however, and injured students are being transported to local medical centers and hospitals.”

I straightened, glued to the screen. The Gul du Ger Academy was a prestigious magical school, both expensive and exclusive. The entrance requirements were legendarily difficult, and only wealthy students were allowed within those stone gates, or those with exceptional abilities who could earn scholarships.

“Crap,” I said, pulling out my phone to call Penn. But I stopped before putting through the call. She was working on the components she needed for tomorrow night. As far as I knew, she wasn’t friends with anybody at Gul du Ger, so waiting for a while before telling her shouldn’t be a problem.

I turned my attention back to the station. The reporter—now identified as Mandy Smythe—was moving back to show the heavy, black smoke that was billowing out of the building.

“Authorities are asking people to stay away from the area, unless you have children or family members attending the school. The air isn’t safe to breathe near the explosion, and a dangerous fire is burning. Firemen aren’t sure how to fight it at this point—it’s not responding to water. Rescuers are doing their best to clear the building. If you live near the school, authorities are urging you to keep your windows closed and, if you have air cleaners or purifiers, to please use them.”

She looked far more worried than she had before, and she paused while another member of the news-team darted up to her and handed her a mask. At that moment, the news report switched to someone sitting behind a desk in the station’s offices.

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