Crows of a Feather

18. Our trip to the evil lair

We packed our things silently after I told my friends about my latest dream. Although no one said it out loud, we all agreed that we didn't have any more time to rest.

I changed into the last clean clothes I had — a soft hoodie from a flea market, and a black pair of cargo pants that had ripped in the knees when Amelia's spell on my skateboard had worn off. I took the dead witch's finger, Elias' knife and the prophecy out of my jeans pockets and stuffed them into the ones on my cargo pants.

I had an uneasy feeling, which I had learned to recognise by then. It was my magic building up, making everything feel and smell and sound a hundred times more intense. It made my fingertips tingle and my legs ache from needing to constantly move because I couldn't stay still or I would explode.

I was afraid that if I didn't find Killian tonight, my next magical tantrum would be the end of me. Amelia had said that they would get worse as time went on, and the last one had almost killed me. I wasn't sure I would get so lucky again.

"Just keep breathing, keep calm," Amelia reminded me. It was easier said than done. It wasn't exactly a stress-free situation we were in.

Charon listened carefully before we left. According to him, the lawyers had taken shifts outside our room for the first few hours but had given it a rest once we'd gone to sleep. There was no one outside our door now, so we followed Charon out as quietly as we could.

"So do we just... walk straight in?" I asked in the elevator. Lionel Richie's All Night Long was playing in a soft volume in the background. I thought it kind of suited the situation.

"I mean, it's a landmark, right? There's bound to be tours and stuff. We just grab tickets to one and we'll be fine," Amelia said.

"Yeah, that's a great idea. I'm sure there's lots of those at... oh, look! Eleven PM," Charon said, pointing at the watch around his wrist dramatically.

"Maybe there are ghost tours?" I suggested.

"Yeah," Amelia said hopefully. "Maybe."

"Let's just get out of this place before the lawyers notice we're gone," I said.

The elevator dinged cheerfully as it arrived in the lobby. It was fairly quiet that late at night, the only patrons either too drunk or too tired to pay attention to three kids sneaking out. Outside the hotel, I was hit with freezing wind and pouring rain. The sky rumbled ominously.

"How long is it to the tower, exactly?" I asked. I dodged a stray umbrella that the wind had taken from some poor soul.

"Like... twenty minutes, half an hour by foot?" Amelia said.

"And I'm guessing we don't have money for a cab," I said dryly.

"Nope," Charon said.

"Right. Let's not waste any time, then."

My denim jacket and the hoodie under it were both already absolutely drenched by the time we started walking. Amelia's hair became flat and straight and glued onto her face. Charon, as always, looked gorgeous even when the rest of us resembled wet rodents.

We weren't the only ones stupid enough to go on a walk in the storm. In fact, Chicago was almost as busy as it had been in the daytime. There were party-goers out and about in colourful outfits even though it was a Sunday, and business people struggling to keep their expensive suits dry.

"Fuck this shit. We can't show up to a hostage situation with hypothermia," Amelia said and stopped. She grabbed our wrists and pulled us to the side, out of the way of Chicago's nightlife.