Spellhacke- M. K. England Page 0,70

is Jattapore!” I say. “Gotta say, not really feeling it so far. Not impressed at all. You sure you wanna live here?”

The way Ania’s and Jaesin’s expressions darken gives me a vindictive little thrill. Wanna shut me out of the family completely? Fine. But I’m not gonna just lie back and make it easy for you.

“Awfully soggy, for one,” I say. “And what the hell are those obnoxious birds circling up there? Do they ever stop screaming?”

Jaesin closes his eyes and tips his head back with a sigh. I silently hope for a bird to poop on his face.

“This is fun, though,” I continue, because I’m on a roll and can’t stop myself. “The three of us here like this. It’s just like when you two were dating! Lots of obnoxious tension, the two of you being all huffy and superior, and me as the third wheel, just hanging out over here while you two take yourselves suuuuper seriously and roll your eyes a lot.”

Ania huffs an irritated sigh.

“I know what you’re doing, Diz, and I’m not going to let it—” she begins, but Remi walks back out to join us, their arms laden with bags of food. The smell of buttery biscuits and charred veggies shuts Ania right up, and we quickly divvy up the food to scarf as we walk. It’s probably better that I shove a biscuit in my face and stop talking.

Everything is fine.

We throw our wrappers in the trash receptacle outside the student union building, then slip through the entrance, into the chill of a building air-conditioned for computers, not humans. A bored student wrapped in a thick hoodie sits at the front desk with her feet up on the counter, obviously zoned in to some kind of deck game, so we walk straight past her and follow signs for the post office.

We round a corner and spot the post office window set into a long lobby wall. The others head straight for it. I hang back a bit and let them handle the talking. With my track record the past few days, I wouldn’t be surprised if I managed to blow up the post office or something with my mere presence. Jaesin takes the lead, the envelope clutched in his hand, and marches straight up to the clerk at the window.

I turn away to toss my drink in the recycler, then turn back just in time to see the clerk walk away from the window where the others stand waiting. A moment later, the guy comes out a side entrance, out of their line of sight, and stalks back toward them . . . with one fist brimming over with firaz.

“Look out!” I cry, and the others whirl around just in time to see the clerk round the corner and lift his fireball.

In the blink of an eye, Remi steals the maz straight from his hand and wraps it around their own, cocking their arm back like they’re ready to throw a flaming punch. Jaesin beats them to it, seizing the guy by the collar of his shirt and slamming him into the wall. Ania recovers from her shock quickly enough to scan the empty courtyard for witnesses, then starts in on a quick concealment weave. I run to Jaesin’s side and look the clerk over. His name tag reads VAN, and his expression is hard. Not with anger or violence, though. With determination. This guy has a cause to fight for. Means we’re on the right track, I’d guess, one step closer to the elusive Professor Silva.

“Hey, look, Van,” I say, glancing down at his name tag again to double-check. “You obviously know who we’re looking for, and you’re feeling protective. No need for that, okay? The same people who are after him are after us.”

Seriously, we’re four half-drowned teenagers still wearing our awful disguises from the train. Jaesin’s eyeliner is running, Remi’s shirt is nearly transparent from the rain (not that I’ve noticed), Ania’s curls are sagging, and my terrible skirt feels like it’s going to slide right off with the weight of the water it’s soaked up. Do we really look like MMC assassins come to murder the good Professor Silva?

Van pauses in his struggle against Jaesin’s pressing forearm. He studies me, but still doesn’t speak. I step back to include the whole group in my next words.

“Maybe we should take this chat into the office?” I say, nodding toward the door the clerk used to get the drop on them.

Van