Free Spell Bound by Rachel Hawkins Page A

to a stop. “These aren’t really tents. They’re more like cabins. Or like a tent and a cabin had a baby. A ‘tenbin.’”
    It was a bad joke. A stupid one, and my heart wasn’t even a little bit in it. Archer would’ve laughed at it anyway, I thought, and once again, pain slammed into my chest, nearly leaving me breathless.
    Cal didn’t say anything, so I just swung my arm out, gesturing to the tents. “Pick any of them. They’re all empty.”
    Still not looking at me, Cal moved toward the tent directly in front of us, and pushed back the flap. It occurred to me that I probably should have just given him the lantern instead of following him inside, but by the time I’d had that thought, he was already in the tent.
    I climbed the steps and ducked through the canvas doorway. “Wow,” I said to his back. “Not exactly the digs we had at Thorne, huh?”
    There were two pieces of furniture on the scuffed wooden platform: a folding table and a low cot like the ones in the basement. Of course, that’s about all there was room for. The tent was tiny, and I suddenly felt a little claustrophobic.
    I put the lantern on the table, wishing the pool of light it cast were bigger. As it was, I could barely see Cal’s face in the gloom. Then I shoved my hands in my back pockets and blew out a long breath. Cal sat down on the cot, and it squeaked slightly under his weight. He rested his elbows on his spread knees, hands clasped in front of him, but he still didn’t say anything.
    “Hey,” I said, my voice way too loud, “if you’re, uh, hungry or something, I can see what’s in the kitchen. Running for your life and dragging a powerless demon all over the world probably works up an appetite, huh?” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I mentally cringed so hard, I’m surprised I didn’t sprain something.
    “I’m not hungry,” he replied in a low voice.
    “Awesome,” I said. “Then I’ll leave you alone and let you get some sleep.”
    My cheeks flaming, I headed for the entrance.
    And then, from behind me: “I thought about you. Every day.”
    I froze, my hand still holding the canvas flap.
    Cal’s voice was slightly hoarse as he continued. “Three weeks is a long time to wonder where someone is. All that time, I thought maybe I’d done the wrong thing, telling you to find the Brannicks.”
    I turned around then. I wanted to make a joke, or say something sarcastic, anything that would cut the tension enveloping us. Instead, I said, “I thought about you, too.”
    Cal glanced up, and I met his eyes. “Cal, you…you saved my dad’s life. You tried to save Archer’s.” My chest ached, saying that out loud, but I made myself go on. “That’s so huge, I don’t even know where to start. ‘Thank you’ doesn’t really cut it, you know? And I’m not sure there’s a fruit basket big enough to—”
    He rose to his feet, and suddenly his arms were around me and my face was pressed against his chest. He smelled good, and familiar, and tears sprang to my eyes as I put my hands on his back and pressed him closer. He stroked my hair. “He might be okay, Sophie,” Cal murmured. “The Eye could’ve gotten him out.”
    I squeezed my eyes closed. “I know,” I whispered. “It’s not that. I mean, it is that, but not just that. It’s…Everything is so screwed up, Cal.”
    His arms tightened. “I know. With Graymalkin being gone…” He blew out a long breath but didn’t say anything else.
    I hadn’t even thought about that. How much Cal had loved the island. I remembered what he’d told me at Thorne, that Graymalkin had always felt like home to him. I was used to feeling vaguely homeless, but Cal had lived at Hex Hall since he was thirteen.
    I pulled back to look in his eyes. “I’m so sorry,” I told him. “For all of it.”
    On his face, I saw everything I was feeling. The confusion, the helplessness, the loneliness. And I guess it was that last emotion that made me rise up on tiptoes