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before the incident. Lock on the image. Retrieve. Get out.
    “What happened before the vision?” I asked.
    “I was with Zoe and Kirsten at our cafeteria,” she started. “They were talking about some jock who’s supposed to be super hot but I think is ful of himself and a total loser. So I spaced out and my thoughts turned to Bran and Gavyn. They had another fight this morning.”
    I frowned. “About what?”
    “I have no idea. They’ve been fighting a lot, and it’s driving me crazy,” she growled through clenched teeth.
    Celeste’s voice mixed with the background noise. The room and the rest of her features became blurry as our energies met and our minds blended. I winced. It was uncomfortable, like my brain was being crashed by a bul dozer. The urge to disengage increased, but I fought it. Blurry grey and black shadows shifted and ebbed as though I were looking through an unfocused video camera lens. The pressure inside my head intensified and sweat trickled on my forehead.
    Snapshots of what Celeste saw whipped past my mind’s eye—the hal way just before we entered this room, me eating with my friends, students in the foyer of my school, the outside of the school, Celeste in a bathroom. Each memory locked in a frame. In each frame, people moved without sounds like old black and white silent movies.
    “You teleported to Remy’s car?” My voice sounded like it came from al directions, like an echo through a mist.
    “Yes.” Celeste giggled. “You sound funny. He told me to use it whenever. He’s so sweet and hot.” Her speech slowed down and became slurry. “I think I have a crush on him.” She chuckled.
    Her voice was even weirder than mine, like a ghost’s. The need to laugh hit me. As Celeste yapped about her crush and giggled like a psych patient, images of her school drifted past. A blurry vision, unlike the others, came up. I stayed with it, the urge to laugh overwhelming. I had no idea what was happening to me.
    The memory cleared a bit to reveal a building too tal for Park City, where Celeste lived with Bran and Gavyn, or Cache Val ey, my home. There was an outdoor terrace with tables and chairs, beautiful flowerbeds, and a water fountain. The terrace was tilted at an angle. I laughed, not sure why I found a floating terrace funny. Maybe Celeste’s amusement was transferred to me.
    The next image was just as blurry, but a chil crawled up my spine. There was no mistaking the man on the floor. It was Gavyn, his signature blond locks matted and dirty. Thick smoke coiled around him like a giant snake. His mouth opened as though he was yel ing. Tendrils curled from the swirling black mass and crept toward his mouth. The whole black thing flowed into his mouth like a torrent of nightmare. In seconds, his eyes became bottomless pits of hel . Hysteria bubbled through me and burst out of my mouth in a high pitch laugh.
    Bran appeared. He moved toward Gavyn and waved a serrated dagger and a spray bottle. A dark mass loomed over him, snarling and writhing like a big glob of goo. Bran looked so puny against the demon.
    I convulsed with merriment, stepped back, and the link between Celeste and me broke. My heart raced, but the urge to laugh disappeared. We looked at each other with wide eyes, both of us breathing hard.
    “What happened to us?” Celeste asked in a squeaky voice.
    “I don’t know, but we need to go to HQ. Now.” We teleported.

    ***
    One second we were in the classroom, and next we were in the charcoal-grey foyer of the underground offices of the High Council and the headquarters of the Guardians. The hal ways to our right and left were wide enough for people to walk side-by-side and appeared endless. Panels of fluorescent crystal, a power source from Xenith, ran along the steel ceiling and on inserts along the floor, providing enough il umination, yet my fear of dark providing enough il umination, yet my fear of dark spaces kicked in and my chest tightened.
    I reached up and clasped