"Grief is a curious thing: a single overwhelming sensation that can drive some to utter despair, yet act as the most powerful motivator for others. Never have I known a more versatile emotion, and never have I wanted more desperately to avoid the same. Though grief has pushed me to achieve great things, I would trade them all away in an instant if I could get back that which I lost.
John, I'd take it all back, if only you could have come home."
~Cinza, the Rallsburg Diaries
Hailey saw the giant pillar of dust rising into the sky. Without a second thought, she dove for it.
When she arrived in London—after a long, painful flight across the Atlantic—Hailey realized she hadn't a clue where Cornelius Malton might be, or even anything related to him. She'd been flying for so long, with her mind so singularly focused, that she'd completely forgotten to actually have a plan.
So when she flew into London proper, with Big Ben and the giant ferris wheel and everything else she recognized from TV, Hailey just circled it for a while—taking in the sights, trying to think of what to do next. She tried her phone, but didn't get a signal, so she couldn't look up anything either.
But then a building imploded, and Hailey's instincts kicked in. She'd want me to help.
So Hailey swooped in, and found herself in the wreckage of yet another building. This time, at least, she remembered to keep the dust away from her, projecting a sort-of shield around herself composed of swirling wind. It interfered with her wings a bit, but at least she could breathe properly.
To her surprise, though, there didn't seem to be a single person in the whole building. She flung pieces of debris out of her way, digging through the rubble, but the whole place looked deserted. Full of (now incredibly dusty) books and collapsed shelving, but devoid of human life.
Far less devoid of humanity was the street outside, visible through the gaps in the half-wrecked exterior. As Hailey emerged from the rubble, she found herself facing down yet another crowd of gaping onlookers. Rescue crews and police pushed their way to the front, surrounding Hailey in a very wide semicircle. No one seemed willing to approach her.
Hailey reached down instinctively to brush dust away from her clothes, but she realized she didn't have a single speck on her. Her shield had worked perfectly. Less exciting was her choice of outfit, as she was still wearing Jessica's favorite blue dress from the funeral. Hailey had only stopped once to rest on the whole flight from Tacoma, landing on a shipping barge somewhere in the middle of the ocean, and her mind hadn't settled once. She'd been so single-minded in her rage, she hadn't paid a single bit of attention to her appearance.
At least it's a good-looking dress... Hailey clambered out of the wreckage into the center of the street, slipping on the cobblestone a little as she steadied herself. She murmured a spell and sent a wave of air down across the folds of the dress, neatly blowing away the dust around her.
Maybe it because she'd shown some form of weakness, of being human, but the crowd lost their reluctance and mobbed forward. They still gave her a few inches of space, but soon enough she had microphones shoved into her face, questions shouted at her haphazard from the BBC reporters and police alike.
Hailey didn't want any of it. She hadn't come here to land in the middle of a crowd again. As much as she enjoyed it normally, she couldn't find any joy today. She had to find a ruthless billionaire, and to do that, she needed some time to actually sit down and think, without the attention of the masses.
A huge gust of wind buffeted the crowd and sent them stumbling back as Hailey shot into the air again. She flapped hard and swooped out of sight, while the reporters piled back into vans to try and chase her. Hailey stuck low to the roofs and soon lost them entirely. She found a nice nook sequestered between two arched rooftops to set down again, and pulled out her phone from her bag. To her relief, though she still couldn't get any signal, there was an open wi-fi point nearby—probably a restaurant or a shop or something.
As soon as she connected, her inbox started piling up with new messages, and not just the usual spam. She had a lot of pending mail in her private box: Cinza, Jeremy, Jeremy's sister the senator, Hailey's mom, Josh, Rupert, Weston... the list went on and on, as everybody tried to text her, didn't get anything through, and resorted to old-school email. They all wanted to know what was going on, where she'd gone to.
Well, if they don't already know, they will soon. Hailey didn't have time for everyone back across the Atlantic. She swapped apps and started trying to find who she was really looking for. She needed to find Cornelius Ferdinand Anastasia Malton—or just someone high enough on his corporate ladder she could use to get to him. Anything else was just a distraction.
Culver-Malton Group's London offices were only a mile and a half away. Hailey brushed herself off as she stood up, slinging her bag over her shoulder again and shielding her eyes from the sun. Despite everything she'd heard about London weather, it was actually a nice and sunny day out. Perfect for flying around the city, if she didn't have more important business.
Hailey took off again, and within moments heard the cries of alarm from below. Oh right... I can't turn invisible anymore. Because she's— she's not—
She shook it off, narrowing her eyes and throwing more energy into every wingbeat. Malton's offices loomed ahead, a glassy tower catching the sunlight just so, a stark contrast to the more traditional buildings on every side. Hailey strongly considered just diving straight through an upper floor window, and if she'd seen Malton in any of them, she might have done it.
Instead, she dropped to the street level and landed right in front of the automatic doors, amid startled cries of nearby pedestrians. Hailey ignored them and walked straight in, feeling an intense sense of déjà vu at bursting into an upper class business to find someone. This time, she held no reservations, and she knew she was in precisely the right place.
She'd find him.
Breathing heavily, Hailey marched straight up to the receptionist. "I'm looking for Cornelius Malton."
To her surprise, the receptionist didn't seem put-off in the slightest. He straightened his glasses and frowned. "Mr. Malton is in meetings all day today. May I take a message?"
Hailey rolled her eyes. She held up a hand, palm-up, and let loose a little fire—not enough to set off any sprinklers or fire alarms, but more than enough to intimidate the little man. "Trust me, he'll want to meet me."
The guy faltered, fire dancing in his dark pupils as he stared dumbfounded. It took him a long time to gather his wits again. "Miss Winscombe, I'm afraid I quite honestly have no way to reach Mr. Malton today. I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do for you."
Hailey took a step forward, and she knew for sure he could feel the heat coming off the flames still dancing in her palm. They were very real, just as hot as the rage still boiling in her chest. "Try again. I'm not leaving until I see him."
"I really must ask you to leave."
The flame in Hailey's hand doubled in size, ballooning out. It crackled a little as it caught a few scraps in its wake. With her left, Hailey reached across the desk and lifted the receptionist up by his shirt. She held the fire in his face, inches away so he could really feel the heat. "Malton."
The doors behind her slid open again, followed by the sound of a dozen boots on the smooth floor. Hailey turned around to see a half-dozen uniformed officers, looking very uncertain but ready to move in an instant. The most important-looking of the group stepped forward. As nervous as he looked, his voice was quite steady. "Hailey Winscombe?"
"Yes," she answered. She released the receptionist and let the flame wither out in a puff of warm air. Hailey was quickly realizing how little she could actually accomplish here, no matter how angry she might feel.
The officer took another step forward. "Miss Winscombe, I have to place you under arrest."
Do what now? "...Why?"
He started to lift his arm, but hesitated, obviously thinking very carefully about what to do next. "Will you come with us down to the station?"
"Why am I under arrest?" She hesitated. I've never been to England... I don't know how things work over here. "You guys have to tell me that, right?"
"You've entered the country illegally, for starters."
Oh... yeah, I guess I did. Hailey nodded. I have no idea how long I'm gonna be here, and I can't have the police chasing me all over... "Okay. I'll come with you."
"Thank you." The man reached for his handcuffs momentarily, then seemed to think better of it. He placed a hand on Hailey's shoulder and steered her toward the exit, while the receptionist sagged in relief. "Hailey Winscombe, you do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. These rights are extended to you as a courtesy by Her Majesty to a guest of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. Do you understand these rights as I have read them to you?"
"Yeah."
The policeman breathed a sigh of relief. "Right. Let's get on with it."
He nodded to one of his subordinates, who hurried out to bring a car around. Hailey got into the back seat, amidst a cloud of cameras flashing in her face and shouted questions from onlookers, undoubtedly wondering the exact same question as the London police and everyone else in the world—what the hell was Hailey Winscombe, the magic flying girl, doing in Great Britain?