Morgan’s eyes roll up white and he topples sideways. Like dominoes, the others follow, leaving me alone in the clearing as the mist coils closer.

14

Run!

Every stitch in the fiber of my being screams at me to make an escape, but I’m paralyzed, frozen—literally—where I sit.

Besides, I can’t leave Morgan or the others passed out in the darkness without any way to defend themselves. I scrabble through the dirt in search of a weapon, anything I can use to fend off the mist. Cool, a pebble. As if that’ll do any damage to a mist demon from beyond the veil.

Slowly, the smudges of green coil together to form arms and legs, and a halo of hair puffs around a featureless face. Then it speaks, and this time it’s not a scream.

“That wasn’t very smart,” it says in Natalie’s voice. “You’re lucky I got here before something else did.”

“Is it really you?”

“It is.”

“Prove it,” I say, all stuttery.

“I ruined your Kekri dress with a fire spell, which was actually pretty awesome,” she says. “And—last winter, you kissed me.”

Her words whip the breath out of my lungs. Tears freeze salt tracks down my cheeks.

Sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry—it’s what I should’ve said when I ruined our friendship. But an apology isn’t what comes out of my mouth now either.

“It’s really you,” I manage to squeak.

“Unfortunately for me,” Natalie whispers.

The realization hits me like I just stubbed my toe, the pain intense and mincing up my insides. If Natalie is a liekkiö, we’re too late. She’s already dead.

“Are you—still alive?” I ask so quietly I’m not sure even a ghost can hear me.

“I think so,” she says. “But we’re fading. Faster and faster.” The green tendrils billow, the emerald turning the sickly yellow of an old bruise before brightening again.

Maybe there’s hope then. Maybe we can still save her.

“You said we?” I knew it!

“There are others.”

“Risto? Qendresa?”

“Yes. Peter, Elijah, Manami and—” Natalie’s voice fades in and out between static, like a badly tuned radio station.

It’s just as we thought. This whole norovirus thing is a gigantic cover-up for the most magical kids going missing, and none of the adults seem to be doing a flipping thing about it!

“Where are you? What happened? When—I mean, how—and why? And—” My brain fires off questions faster than my tongue can form them.

“I don’t know,” Natalie says. “I got jumped from behind. I never saw their face. They had tattoos on their arms though. I tried to burn them, but only burned their clothes. They were too powerful.”

Tattoos? MacCrone has tattoos.

So does Morgan, the little voice supplies.