Headlines & Hydras by Rebecca Chastain

Author:Rebecca Chastain [Chastain, Rebecca]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781734493917
Publisher: Mind Your Muse Books
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

15

Quinn and I walked in silence from the bus stop to the Terra Haven Chronicle. The pedestrian traffic parted around us, making way more room for Quinn than for me. My thoughts caromed from the journalists’ taunts to my upcoming meeting with Dahlia, and I alternated between clenching my teeth and releasing deep sighs. Every time I attempted to focus on my most important problem—finding and exposing the Airstrong thief—my imagination leapt forward to my next empty-handed encounter with Zipporah. Whether I found the illegal spells or not, I wouldn’t hand them over to the harpy, which meant I needed to come up with a brilliant alternative plan to appease her and . . . That’s when my mind went blank before restarting the whole vicious cycle.

“More reporters?” Quinn asked, interrupting a vision of Zipporah dropping me atop sharp rocks from a hundred feet up.

I squinted at two men and one woman leaning against the brick wall of the Chronicle. Each carried a notebook, one had a camera, and all three of them perked up when they spotted us.

“Crap. Not here, too.”

Recording spheres sprang into existence in front of each reporter and shot toward us. The hyenas chased after them.

“Let’s make a run for it.” The advancing journalists were between us and the door, but if we could make it across the threshold, they wouldn’t follow us.

“I’ll meet you inside in a few minutes. I’m going to let the local gargoyles know not to offer enhancements to these meanies.”

My eyebrows lifted at the word meanies. It was the closest I had heard Quinn come to insulting someone. “All right.”

Quinn took off, his ascent intentionally shallow to force the reporters to duck. Nevertheless, they hardly slowed.

“Harriet, how much longer are you going to pretend to work for the Chronicle?”

Pretend? Could you be more insulting?

“Will you take over Airstrong if your parents are arrested?”

There won’t be an Airstrong if it comes to that.

“What happened with the harpy yesterday?”

What do you think happens when a harpy snatches up a person and carries her to a remote location? That we shared a picnic?

The three of them attempted to box me in, but after the mob outside my house, their pitiful efforts couldn’t cage me. I pushed past them and yanked open the door to the Chronicle, biting off a knee-jerk apology when the door smacked into someone’s elbow. Their questions hammered through the closing gap of the door, and I rushed up the stairs, pretending to be deaf.

I paused on the landing to collect myself, then marched into the bullpen with my head held high, determined not to react to any hecklers. Keeping my expression neutral, I ran my eyes over the entire room. Only half the desks were occupied this early, with more journalists trickling in behind me. A few people returned my look with unfriendly glares, but no one voiced any insults.

A foot shot out from behind a desk, tripping me.

“Careful, there,” Nathan said. He rose, his “helping” hand preventing me from going around him.

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