Chapter 31 — Across the Pond

"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 was 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?

In fact, it was the very first question asked of Hailey when she finally sat down in the interrogation room at the London Metro Police station, opposite a gravelly-voiced rough older woman who appeared to be the chief of police.

"I'm looking for something," Hailey replied, with a pointed glance at the recording box seated on the carved wooden table. Everything about the room was much nicer than the American equivalents she'd been in, even the one in the FBI offices a few weeks prior. It was all so pleasant, which just made her feel even more frustrated. She shouldn't be stuck in a police station; she had real work to be doing, work the police should be helping her with.

The chief and her second—a tall bald man who looked like he'd been puttering around the place since World War II—glanced at each other, before the chief spoke again. "And it's got something to do with Mr. Malton, does it?"

Hailey shrugged.

"Come off it. You banged into the man's office," said the tall man. Lieutenant? Hailey wondered. She had no idea what ranks the police used, on either side of the ocean. She hated not knowing things, even the little details like that. "Let's not play the fool now."

"Aren't I supposed to get a lawyer or something?" Hailey asked, glancing around. "I thought that was still a thing over here."

"Would you like us to summon legal counsel?" asked the chief, and she too glanced at the recording device. Hailey decided to take the hint, hoping she was right.

"...I'd like to waive whatever right I have to this being recorded, and getting a lawyer and all that. I just want to talk off the record, if that's okay."

The chief breathed a sigh of relief as she reached forward. "This interview with Hailey Winscombe was concluded at twelve fifty-five in the afternoon on November the twenty-third, two thousand eighteen." She switched off the recording device.

Immediately, Hailey leaned forward again, and the intensity returned to her voice. "Okay. Now some real answers. I need to find Malton."

"Hold the phone," said the lieutenant. He scratched his head as he spoke. "You're still here illegally, you know. We need you to answer for that."

"Why do you want to find Mr. Malton?" asked the chief, putting a hand on her lieutenant's arm to forestall him.

Hailey hesitated. How much do I tell them…? It's not like I can prove anything. "Did you see the videos of Lakewood? Of what happened there?"

"Miss Winscombe, I don't believe there's a soul in Her Majesty's realm that hasn't seen it."

Good. So everybody knows what he's capable of. "Malton caused that. It was his men that started everything."

"Oh, honestly," cried the lieutenant, standing up. "Are you really suggesting that Mr. Malton has some secret force of… what's the word again?"

"Awakened," supplied the chief, still watching Hailey skeptically.

"A secret force of awakened that he sent out to America to do… what, exactly?"

"Kill a whole lot of innocent people," Hailey growled.

Both of them winced at her tone. The chief looked about to say something, but Hailey was fed up. I don't have time for this. I need to get out there. He already knows I'm in town. I have to find him, and I have to make him answer for this.

She stood up.

"What are you—"

"I'm leaving now," Hailey announced. "I've got things to do. Are you going to try and stop me?"

"I can't just let you leave," said the chief, also rising to her feet.

"You really don't want to get in my way right now." Hailey wasn't trying to sound so harsh, but it came across that way. The lieutenant recoiled at her gaze, but the chief stood resolute. "I'm not a citizen of the U.K., right? So just let me go. I'll be out of the country as soon as I'm done."

"That… You can't just—" spluttered the lieutenant.

His boss raised her hand again to shut him up. "You flew here all on your own, didn't you?" she asked.

Hailey nodded. "I can do a lot more than that."

"I've no doubt. As I said, we've seen the video." The chief frowned. "I'm also quite aware you aren't so invincible as you wish to project. I distinctly recall watching you struggle out of a collapsing structure several times over."

"That was…" Hailey trailed off. It was true… If she hadn't seen that cross-beam in time, she could've been a goner. It fell within inches of her head. But if they think I'm weak, they'll actually try to hold me down. I don't want to hurt them. "Look. Do you see this?" She held up a little ball of flame again.

"That's not impressing anyone anymore," sniffed the lieutenant in a haughty tone.

"Not impressed?" Hailey snapped. She flung her hand out toward the door, unlocking the handle she'd seen coming in. With a snap of her fingers, the door slammed open like a crack of lightning. "You don't know anything."

"...Uhh, marm?" came a quivering voice from the door. An officer stood just behind the suddenly quite-open door to the interrogation room, hand up as if to knock. Her knees buckled together as she froze in place, barely managing to string together a sentence. "Marm, Miss Winscombe's legal counsel has arrived."

Jefferson? Hailey raised her eyebrows, before realizing it was ridiculous. There's no way he could get here that fast. Maybe somebody from his firm, or a recommendation… but I didn't call anyone. What's going on?

"Also, you've a call from the foreign secretary's office."

"Thank you," said the chief, giving the hapless officer a curt nod. The young woman fled the room, passing a sharply-dressed man with a briefcase.

"Good to see you again, chief," he greeted warmly. The chief offered him the same curt nod she'd just given her own officer, and he smiled all the wider. "Miss Winscombe. A pleasure."

Hailey just nodded, trying to play along, though she had no clue who the man was.

"You can't expect us to believe you're her lawyer," said the lieutenant hotly.

"All guests of the esteemed Met are entitled to legal counsel, as I'm sure you'd agree," he replied, cheerful as ever.

"It seems you have some powerful friends," said the chief, glancing at Hailey.

"May we have the room, please?"

The chief turned to Hailey in full, narrowing her eyes. "Is this your legal counsel, Miss Winscombe?"

Hailey nodded, though she still had no clue where the man might have come from. No matter who he was, she wasn't about to turn down the mysterious assist. She had enough friends in high places, as the chief said, that he could have come from anyone. I must be on the right track.

As soon as they were alone, the lawyer sat down across from her. He didn't bother to open his briefcase, merely pulled out a business card and handed it over.

Hailey scanned it and immediately did a double take. Her mouth fell open.

"Sir Thomas Laushire is eager to make your acquaintance," added the lawyer. "If it is amenable to you, we'd like to arrange a meeting at your earliest convenience. Say, perhaps, in ten minutes?"