Page 68 of Of Flame and Fury
She’s begging me to say no.
“It is where Sparky wants us to be.”
Emme gasps. “Oh, my goodness, Taran.”
I whip around, thinking she sees something. “What?”
“Maybe Johnny is in there,” she whispers.
“How do you figure?”
“Why else would your hand lead us here, to a place where the bad things need to stay in. It’s a good place for him to hide since it’s not a place we’d choose first to look.”
“Maybe,” I say. “There’s one way to find out.” I didn’t want to face Johnny like this. But if Emme’s right, we can’t give up an opportunity to fight him.
Emme’s light shines in my hands. She’s ready. I’m ready. I nod to her. “Let’s do it.”
I open the door and step inside the ladies’ bathroom. The door, which looks nothing like the door I opened, closes gently shut behind us.
“This isn’t a classroom,” Emme whispers in my ear.
“I know,” I mutter. “Johnny is really getting on my last nerve.” With a resolved sigh and another curse, I lead her forward. “We might as well check it out.”
As quiet as I try to be, the squeak of my borrowed sneakers echoes along the pink monstrosity. Pink bathrooms, in my experience, are gaudy and overdone. I’ll give it to Genevieve, that witch has taste.
The sandstone floors alternate in shades of light to dark pink. Gold veins branch through each tile, and illuminated scented candles float along the open space casting a subtle glow that creates a blissful ambiance. More spa than restroom, bubbling fountains replace sinks, where pink and lavender rose petals spin as they float along each tier.
Emme steals a peek into the sinks. “Is this sanitary?” she asks.
“They are,” I say. “The flowers are cultivated with magic and dusted with silver from seedlings. They sanitize the water and possess healing properties. During witch school, I was in charge of them for like, a day.”
Emme pauses. “You set them on fire, didn’t you?”
My spine stiffens with my tone. “It was an accident, and they started it.”
Shayna would just laugh at me and probably point. Emme makes a small face. “Did they really, Taran?”
“Yes,Emme. The little bastards would lengthen when they saw me and stab me in the ankles with their thorns. So, yeah, I torched one or eight of them to show them who was boss. Can you believe that innocent act of self-defense cost me four demerits?”
She crinkles her small nose. “Only four?”
“Whose side are you on, anyway?”
She holds out her hands. “I’m just saying the witches tend to be strict. I’m surprised the incident didn’t earn you time on the torture rack.”
“It’s the modern world, Emme,” I remind her. “The rack is only used for witches who accidentally sprout hooves.” I frown. “And antlers, if memory serves. Damn, no wonder I was kicked out.”
The candles flutter as we pass, casting shadows of us against the wall. “What are those?” Emme asks. She motions to the row of stands whose walls curve inward.
“Toilet stalls.”
I watch my shadow as we continue forward. If someone were to snap a picture and show me at a later time, I’d know who is who. Gemini has described me as voluptuous more than once. I’m thin, but I inherited the Latina ass and boobs from my mother’s side.
Emme’s figure is more of a young woman fresh out of her teens. Her figure walks that fine line between youth and womanhood, feminine with still more change to come. She’s petite, more so than me. While I know she’s a force to be reckoned with, her smaller figure keeps us from accepting how strong she is. Celia is pregnant, yet something about the way Emme carries herself makes her appear more vulnerable.
Emme pokes her head into one of the stalls. “What is that? A bidet.”
“No. A Japanese toilet,” I explain.