Apparently, Adam has never flown before. He's freaking out about pretty much everything in first class, from how much space there is to the complementary blankets and pillows at our seats.

“Economy has blankets and pillows too,” I tell him, but he hardly seems to register anything I say.

It is pretty nice on this plane. It's a big one, and because the seats are only two to an aisle in first class, they're huge. Plenty of space to sleep comfortably, which is what I plan on trying to do the minute we take off. It's four in the afternoon right now in California, but one in the morning in France, and I want to try to adjust to the time difference as soon as possible during the seventeen hour flight.

I try to tell this to Adam, but he's currently losing his mind over the headphones that have been provided for him. I just focus on stuffing our bags into the overhead compartment and waiting for take off, which I know is still probably half an hour away.

Adam has the window seat, since he's never been in a plane before and all—see, I can be nice—but I keep glancing over at it. There's no reason to think that anybody but Eleanor even knows we're gone yet, but I can't help but imagine one of the flight attendants coming over with an air marshall and telling us that we need to leave the plane immediately, and find Ms. Cross, or worse, someone sent by the Council, waiting for us on the tarmac.

The waiting and wondering is hard, but finally everyone is boarded and the tv screens in front of us turn on automatically to begin playing the announcement about rules and emergency exits.

When the plane starts to rumble Adam immediately has his nose pressed up against the window. I don't have the heart to tell him it'll be another ten minutes before we actually start moving.

When we do though, I can see his excitement in the set of his shoulders, even though I can't see his face at all. I try to get comfortable in my seat, watching him out of the corner of my eye as I scroll through the movie options on the TV.

We finally start moving, and I hear him actually gasp a little as the plane begins to lift into the air. It's almost endearing. He watches the ground disappearing below us until an announcement comes over the intercom to lower the window screens, and he does reluctantly.

“Are we going to be served meals? When does that happen?” he asks, looking around expectantly.

I roll my eyes. “In a couple of hours, probably. And don't get too excited, even good airplane food is pretty mediocre most of the time. Just watch a movie or something for now, and then try to sleep, or you'll end up with jet lag.”

I sleep fitfully for a few hours, waking up for good around seven in the morning according to France's time. Adam has been alternating between watching movies and staring out the window for almost that entire time, and only then does exhaustion overtake him and he falls asleep himself. He's going to be a wreck when we land, and I don't have any plans to baby him as he adjusts the hard way to the time difference.

Finally, more than seventeen hours after take off, the plane comes in for landing in France. I turn my phone back on and text Eleanor to let her know we've landed. It's six in the evening in France, but only 9 AM back home.

I let Adam sleep until the last possible moment, which he somehow does through all the commotion and turbulence, while I gather our things together and get our bags down from the overhead compartment. It's not until other first class passengers are starting to shuffle down the walkway to exit the plane that I shake him awake.

“Wha?” he says blearily, sitting up and blinking stupidly. The left side of his face is red and has the imprint of the edge of his seat pressed into it, from the way he was sleeping.

“We're here,” I reply, throwing his duffle bag at him. He catches it, but only barely.

I made him perform some minor spells in the airport in California before we left to burn off as much excess magic as possible, not really thrilled about the idea of being trapped in a metal tube hurtling 35,000 feet above the earth with Adam Wolfe of all people, but it's been almost twenty hours since then and he's running hot again.

I can see the thin sheen of sweat on his brow, and standing so close together, I can feel the unnatural heat rolling off his skin. I wonder briefly if he ever casts spells on accident in his sleep, in reaction to his dreams.

We get through security in one piece, and since we carried on our only luggage, we don't have to linger any longer than necessary in the French airport. Adam complains that he's starving so we stop by an airport cafe—just a Starbucks, nothing actually French—and he buys about half the entire stock.

Correction, I buy about half the entire stock, and I complain the entire time I'm handing over my credit card to the girl behind the counter.

“You know it's six o'clock, right? We'll have to stop for dinner soon anyway,” I tell him, irritated.

“Sure, but I'm hungry now, and we don't know where we are or what's around us, so there's no saying when we'll actually get a chance to eat,” he protests.

I don't argue too hard though, because he does actually look stretched pretty thin.

While we're waiting for one of only two employees to cram all his muffins and breakfast sandwiches into bags, my phone vibrates in my pocket. It's a text from Eleanor, and it's so long that she's run over the character limit for a single text so it comes in two waves.

R u guys in Brittany? How's Adam? Is he OK? Has he eaten? Did u get thru customs OK? R u @ the hotel yet? R u somewhere safe?

No 1 knows Adam is gone yet. i told my mom that he was asleep in my room when she got home & i slept on the couch instead, but they'll figure it out today 4 sure when he isn't @ breakfast. I'm going to be in so much ducking trouble, this had better all be worth it. Cross is going to be here later today so we're really busted no matter what. I won't tell her where u guys r tho, or that ur with him. B safe out there & make sure he uses magic regularly. He's under a lot of stress & he has a harder time controlling it when he's worked up or his emotions r high. Don't end up in some french prison becuz he blew up the airport, or taken into custody by the french version of the council by performing magic in front of mundanes.

Keep me updated, I want to kno ur every move. I'll delete all the messages u send after I read them in case my parents take my phone.

I roll my eyes and text back: Yes; good; yes; yes; yes; no; no; it will be worth it; you'd better not; I will; I know; we won't; I will; good idea. TTY when @ hotel.

“Now what?” Adam asks through a mouthful of pumpkin cream cheese muffin.

“Now we catch a bus, go to our hotel,” I reply, sliding my phone back into my pocket, “and plan our next steps.”

I stop to get some Euros from an ATM in the airport. Outside we catch a taxi to the bus station. I tell the driver where to go in halting, poorly accented French, but Adam looks at me as if I've just come out with fluent moon speak.

“You speak French?” he asks, and I swear he's almost in awe.

“A little,” I shrug.

The truth is, I've been taking a few college prep classes online, and one semester of introductory French was among them, and I'd been to the Forest of Brocéliande with my mom over the summer once before. I can get by in French--"How much is this", "where is the bathroom", "I'd like the croissant please", what have you--but not well enough to impress anyone. Except, apparently, Adam.

"Do you really think we can do this?" he asks in a hushed whisper as the taxi joins the cue trying to leave the Rennes airport. "I mean... do you honestly think we have a chance at finding Mer--the you-know-what?"

"I do," I say, looking out the window rather than at Adam's face, uncomfortably close in the confines of the taxi as he leans in to whisper to me.

And it's true--at least, I really do think we're in for a chance. I can feel the binder full of notes and research in my backpack on my lap.

And if I'm wrong, and Adam ends up having to flee the country--where did they say, to Mexico?--or worse, standing before the judgement of the Council where he will inevitably be deemed too dangerous for Magicdom, and he's stripped of all his powers forever...

Well, at least I can say that I tried.