Page 76 of Tracking Snow

Leaving a bunch of charred bodies behind would not have been a good idea in any way shape or form, Six says, beating One to the punch. And you could have accidentally hurt Snow.

Four merely grumbles in response.

"Did you have to bring the bartender’s mother into it?" I yell.

"Alright, fair point," she says, panting. "But I maintain that their jackets are ugly and his mama didn’t raise him right."

The urge to close my eyes in exasperation is strong, and suddenly I know what it’s like to be One.

Or...I guess I always know what it’s like to be One, since we are the same person, though it doesn’t feel that way. Snow has a way of bringing all of us closer together in more ways than one.

While I’d eliminated that HAM a while back, who I knew would circle back and try to hurt Snow, it had been messy. My talent had more to do with getting us out of scrapes than fighting through them. Thus, we run.

"You just can’t go around talking about people’s moms like that," I say again, needing to press the point on her.

The stamping gets louder as I realize some of the HAMs used shortcuts.

I was right when I told Snow about the danger of going in there. It’s not that the Humans Against Magic were particularly smart or dangerous on their own, but upwards of ten of them and it becomes a problem.

We definitely have a problem.

"Here, quick," Snow grabs my sleeve and drags me down an alley in a different direction. "Phase us through here," she instructs.

I do as she says. We are in a corridor of a hotel, and she rushes me through and out the front door then back onto the street. I continue to let her pull me along as she asks me to phase once, twice, three more times. Each time my vision blurs, never completely coming back into focus. My boots start hitting the pavement flat, whole-footed, like they belong to somebody heavier. Twice, I clip a shoulder on a doorframe I meant to miss.

"What’s wrong?" Snow asks from somewhere that seems far away.

"It takes a lot of energy to phase," I pant, "We’ll need to sleep soon."

"Got it," she says with a sharp nod. "I’ll take care of it."

I wish she’d say, “I’ll take care of you,” Five says a bit wistfully.

We need to stay focused, Six instructs. If we phase one more time, we might pass out.

He isn’t wrong. I’m stumbling now and probably would have collapsed if Snow hadn’t looped her arm around my waist, directing me forward.

"Just one more time." Her words are warm and soothing in my ear, and I obey without question.

She leaves me, and the wall catches me before the floor gets the chance. I stay where it puts me.

There is the snap of a light fixture, and warm light spreads from a Victorian-style lamp with a fringed shade. Its glow illuminates a black and white checkered floor, a big floral couch and live plants hanging from the ceiling. Their vines crawl everywhere, dotted with different types of blooms.

I blink several times before I discern that we are in some kind of tattoo parlor. One that might have been decorated by a grandma with a plant addiction.

"You should turn the light out," I say, my voice hoarse.

"It’s okay. The blackout shades are pulled down over the window and door. No one can see in. For safety and all that jazz…whoops, I got you."

She catches me just as I stumble and almost end up flat on my face. "Come on, big hero. Let’s have a lie down, shall we?"

Snow leads me over to the white leather chair so I can lay out. Then she uses the pedals underneath to recline me before sitting on a short rolling stool and gliding over to my side.

"You’re not going to tattoo me, are you?" I ask only half-teasing.

Snow squints at me as if seriously considering it before breaking into a smile, shaking her head.

"Nah, Tink would skin me alive if I touched her tools."