Twenty
I walk out of the faerie paths into Chase’s home—and nothing happens. No screeching alarm, no tumbling through the air, no dangling upside down. It’s late, but the tasseled lamp in the corner is on, and I can hear movement coming from his bedroom. I decide immediately that this was a mistake. He won’t want to see me. He’s probably glad he got rid of me after the time traveling mess was over. My stylus is still in my hand, so I look around for the nearest surface on which to write a doorway spell.
“Calla?” I look toward the bedroom. Chase walks out, securing a harness around his torso. Diagonal strips of leather house two knives on each side his chest. A belt of smaller weapons is slung around his waist. “I realized someone was here,” he says, “but I didn’t expect it to be you.”
I
