There was no way I was hanging out with Lizzie Borden, not while I still had leads to pursue. We’d questioned Luther Ross, but I still felt as if I’d missed something there, some insight into the Nix and her motivations. Ross had said he hadn’t known why she’d come to his school, and I doubted he was lying, but if I asked the right questions, maybe I could figure out her motive for myself.

Before we’d left Luther Ross, Kris had given him a “safe house” transportation code, sending him to a remote location where he could lie low and, more importantly, where we could track him down if need be. Now I wanted to speak to him again. So as soon as Trsiel dropped me off at Lizzie’s house, I did a quick check-in with her, then zipped off after Kristof.

Chapter 29

29

I FOUND KRISTOF IN HIS OFFICE AT THE COURTHOUSE, talking to a toga-clad client. The moment I peeked around the corner, Kris scuttled his client off.

“I need to find a certain nymphomaniac,” I said, perching on the edge of his desk.

“Nymph—?” Kris laughed. “Ah, and never has that word been more apt. Mr. Ross, I presume.”

“So where’d you tuck him away?”

Kris’s fingers closed over mine. “Let me show you.”

We touched down in a field of white. For a second, I thought the Fates had diverted us to a throne-room waiting area. Then I saw a distant line of trees and, behind them, a mountain range. As I turned to look for Kristof, the ground under my sneaker crunched like broken glass. I knelt and reached down. My fingers sank into something soft and faintly cold.

A white ball struck my shoulder, and exploded on contact. I looked over my shoulder to see Kristof packing a second missile.

“Throw that at your peril.”

The snowball glanced off the top of my head, showering me with snow. I glared at him, spun on my heel, and started to march away. As I walked, I cast a blur spell. The last words left my mouth, then I wheeled, raced behind Kristof, and knocked him flying off his feet. When he hit the ground, I jumped on his back and rubbed his face in the snow.

He sputtered, bucked, and managed to flip me off his back. We tussled for a few minutes, both armed with fistfuls of snow, trying unsuccessfully to give the other a face-washing. Finally, we fell onto our backs, laughing.

Overhead was a faint greenish arch. As I watched, other threads of colored light appeared, reds and blues and yellows, dancing and weaving against the black sky.

“Are you doing that?” I asked.

“Wish I could take credit. It’s the Northern Lights.”

“Wow.”