Book Five, Chapter 43: The Femme Fatale
"We really cannot risk staying here," I said, but I might as well have been talking to myself because Michael and Andrew could not resist questioning Lila.
My friends seemed to agree that the interrogation was more critical than whatever risk standing at the entrance of the Powerworks Pavilion might hold.
I kept my head on a swivel, looking for Omens. I didn't know of any that would threaten us, but we were certainly surrounded.
So, if one of the Omens turned out to be mobile, we would be in trouble because there were some high-level storylines around us.
If it turned out that the werewolves in the monster lair up the mountain could somehow leave their invisible chains and come down to us, we would be dead.
There were no cool heads among us except perhaps Andrew’s and perhaps Ramona's. What a bad Hysteric.
We were all either scared or confused or angry.
"Why did you do that?" Michael asked, with a fury that was usually reserved for enemies. "You got Logan and Avery killed. You got us killed!"
Lila, much like her surrogate in the storyline, had disappeared into a catatonia that Michael's words could not pierce.