Persie Merlin and the Witch Hunters - Bella Forrest Page 0,19

scientist from the Institute who’d never returned from Fergus’s realm. If my suspicions were correct, Charles hadn’t been taken there to begin with. It had been six months. I’d thought he’d resurface mysteriously, like the US abductees had, but there’d been zilch. I’d considered asking my parents outright many times, but Victoria’s insular mindset stilled my tongue every time. The Institute had avoided an investigation after the Door fiasco, since Victoria had spread the story that it was a code red simulation to test the Institute’s emergency protocols which, by some miracle, everyone had bought. I supposed the truth was weirder than the fiction. Although, those who’d actually been captured by the Wisps had faced private meetings with Victoria, and they had come out vowing to stay silent on what had really happened, for the good of the Institute. Either way, Charles’s continued absence would definitely ring some authority alarm bells, if he stayed missing. It hadn’t yet, likely thanks to Victoria’s knack for keeping things hushed up, but it was only a matter of time.

“Anyway, it’s probably none of my business. My parents are pros—they’ll have the US stuff handled, I’m sure.” They hadn’t reached their high positions as secret agents for nothing. “And I know Victoria has people searching nonstop for any word on Charles. Maybe he’s already turned up somewhere, but all the international red tape is screwing with shared intel, or agencies in Europe haven’t located him yet. Just because he was taken from here doesn’t mean he’d be returned here, you know what I mean? They could’ve dropped him in Switzerland, for all we know.”

Cynane took the tube of lipstick and stabbed it at her heart, melodramatically collapsing to the desk with her tongue lolling out of her mouth. As the lipstick rolled away, it left a bright red smudge above her heart. I got the picture, loud and clear.

I shuddered. “Yeah, there’s always that possibility.” I looked over my semi-tidy bedroom, my eyes catching on a pair of leggings that dangled like a shed skin from the door of my rustic wardrobe. “It’s not like I could help much, anyway.”

Boudicca and Cynane nodded effusively, which I wasn’t sure whether to take as an insult, while Spartacus admired himself in the back of a teaspoon. He always paused in front of mirrors and windows to pose and preen—had I known that before I’d named him, I probably would’ve gone with Narcissus.

“But I can help myself,” I murmured, thinking out loud. My parents had already forged their legacies, but mine was still in the earliest of stages. If I wanted to make them truly proud on family weekend, then I had to start kicking things up a notch. The physical side made up half of the graduation score, so I couldn’t rely on academics alone. And I wasn’t about to waste these years only to fail at the end. I’d told Genie I would run, and I had to put my money where my mouth was.

“Maybe I’ll go for an evening—” I gulped “—run.” It wasn’t too late, the island was more or less a crime-free zone, and the dusky twilight would mask most of my awkward technique. During the week, students were expected to be in their rooms by eleven o’clock—an unwritten rule of sorts—but the same didn’t stand for weekends. The older students would probably be in the pub by now, literally drinking in some Irish hospitality, and my classmates would be in the rec room. If there was ever a time to start my cardio journey, it was now, when I could be guaranteed peace and quiet.

Cynane erupted into fits of giggles and set off across the desk in a weird, squat run that reminded me of a frantic lizard I’d seen sprinting across a pond in a nature documentary. She gasped loudly for air until she toppled over in a heap, cracking up.

I shot her a stern look. “Hilarious.”

Boudicca flew up to my face and grasped my cheeks in her tiny hands. She gave me a solemn look, clearly trying to show that she had faith in me, but the attempt was ruined by the half-smirk on her lips. I’d hoped I might get some encouragement from one of the pixies, but they all seemed to be thinking the same thing: “You? Running? HA.”

“I suggest you drop the negativity, or I’ll put on so much boppy music that your ears will bleed. I need cheering on, not a reminder of how weird

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