Final Kill (Cain University Book 3)

by Lucy Auburn

  Eve calls out from around the corner, "It's our esteemed guests, here to speak with Ellen. One of them has a Physical Affinity for making earth stuff tremble. I guess he decided to show off a little for some reason."

  I sigh. "They're early. Just like Eve. I guess that means I have to go."

  "Too bad." He squeezes my fingers just a little too tight, the shadowed look beneath his eyes already haunting me. "I'll see you soon?"

  "Very soon."

  Despite the fact that we're out in the school hallway, empty or not, and Eve is mere feet away, I dare to get up on the tips of my toes and lean towards his mouth. Like a moth to the flame, I want nothing more than to touch him, whether it destroys me or not. Based on the eager way Grayson's lips part, he feels the same—especially given how he softly groans and sighs when I pull away from his passionate touch.

  "Gross," Eve says, her voice a teasing singsong. "Let's go already, Arizona. You seeing eye dog pissed and we're going to be late late if we don't hurry it up. Even you don't like to be tardy."

  It hurts, but I have to tell Grayson, "Gotta go. Talk soon? And we can plan a... a date."

  "Ellen Arizona." His blue eyes crinkles at the edges with amusement. "Are you asking me out? All nice and proper? Will I need to wear I tie?"

  "Grayson Hughes," I mutter, lowering my voice to its most threatening register. "I swear to god, if you're going to make this into a whole thing, I'll just take a knife and—"

  "Oh, my dear, I know what you do to men with your knives." He cups my cheek with his hand, the curve of his mouth an irresistible delight. "I'll go to dinner with you. Or the movies? We can do coffee, if that's more your style, though I'm betting you're a drinks kind of girl. There's an art museum in Manhattan that I just love, you've probably heard of it, it's called—"

  "If you try to tell me about the existence of MoMA—"

  Grayson kisses me, briefly, while Eve stands nearby and taps an impatient foot, looking a mixture of irritated beyond all limits and intensely curious at the same time. When he's done kissing me, I've gotten most of why I'm angry at him, and remembered mostly that we're going to go on a date.

  Well. That is. If the centuries-old killer in our classmate's body doesn't come and take us out first. But a girl's still gotta live, even with a psychopath nipping at her heels. If being in a toxic relationship with Jack taught me anything, it's that time spent looking over your shoulder, paranoid and anxious, is life wasted.

  Do what you can to survive. Let go of what you can't control. And remember that life is done with the living of it.

  "I'll text you the details," Grayson says, stepping back and grasping his cane, fingers loosening in mine. "Go meet up with the Shadow Fold. Make me proud. Not that you could do anything less—as long as you don't, well..."

  "No more fart jokes," I warn him, though I love them more than any other kind of humor. "My fans hate those."

  He laughs. We reluctantly let go of each other's hands. I let the darkness creep in over my eyes, and remind myself that it's only temporary. As if sensing my distress, Killer trots over to me, and I slip into his vision.

  It's not the same. It never will be. Seeing through his eyes, depending on him—it isn't quite enough. Like imitation meat or masturbation, it doesn't live up to the real thing.

  Beef tenderloin and mind-blowing sex can't be replaced.

  Neither can seeing through my own eyes.

  Thankfully for me, I have four Conduits, and they won't be leaving my life at any point in the future. I may not be holding Grayson's hand right now as Eve leads me to the meetup with the Shadow Fold, but I have no doubt I'll be back in touch with him soon. I just have to believe in the unknown—like I believe that there's a whole world in front of me in the darkness, even though I can't see it anymore.

  When most people think about a group of underground assassins who go by the name of Shadow Fold, a certain type of image comes to mind: mysterious people wearing all black, holding knives, and brooding in rooms lit only by candlelight.

  Basically, a cheesy B movie gothic nightmare.

  Instead, of course, it's nothing of the sort. Trust magical assassins to be unpredictable, even to each other. When I pictured meeting the men and women who pull the strings behind the scenes, I wasn't picturing this: a group of grown-up dorks who look like they should be running a Dungeons and Dragons marathon while binge watching episodes of the original Dr. Who.

  Standing in the formal office, waiting to meet me and take me to their lair—er, headquarters—are three men and two women who more closely resemble Professor Covington than John Wick. Two of the men are wearing wool blazers and have messy hair; one has on a pale blue button up, and all three of them give off an air of scholarship. The women are business casual outfits and have their hair up in buns, staid gold and silver jewelry in their ears, their makeup unstated. All in all, the group wouldn't look out of place in an office supply sales headquarters.

  The closest exception to the look is the third man, who's tall, with a darker complexion and long hair braided and fastened into a loose knot at the nape of his neck. His black clothing is business professional, from the button-up to the slacks and shiny shoes, including an open-faced blazer. But somehow, despite seeming just as quiet and studious as the others, he still looks like he could kick my ass—a relief, given that I expected to be meeting assassins today, not accountants.

  Killer's nose even tells me that the black-dressed man is wearing a spicy, more modern cologne, and something about him makes the dog wag his tail a little. Probably he once had meat in his pockets. My dog is nothing if not a stomach on four legs guided only by a constant gnawing hunger for meat snacks.

  Same, honestly.

  "Everyone, this is Ellen." Eve takes my elbow and guides me into the room, even though I have Killer's eyes to use—I guess she's just concerned about me. Her little pinch to my elbow tells me she wants me to stand straight and look professional, so I sigh and do so. "Ellen, from left to right, this is Anya Malick, John McKinley, Terrance Quaid, Sasha Smith, and Perry Wilson. They've been selected to head the hunt for Brutus—and now, with your help, they hope to find him for good."

  "Nice to meet you."

  Terrance, the imposing man Killer likes, strides forward and shoves out his hand for a shake. At least I think he does—Killer's eyes show me the start of the movement, but his hand leaves the dog's range of vision when it gets close to me.

  Clenching my teeth in frustration, I put my hand out with a confidence I don't feel, and of course come up with empty air. Thankfully Terrance corrects himself and moves his hand over to take mine, his grasp strong and quick.

  "We should get going." One of the women, a pale blonde with her hair in a tightly perfect bun, pushes up off the wall and adjusts her glasses on the bridge of her nose. "Any later and we'll look suspicious."

  "Agreed," says Perry, a short, freckled, redheaded man who must have an impressive Affinity, because he's definitely not brawny or physically imposing. "Eve, thank you for escorting Ellen. We can take it from here."

  "But she needs—"

  "I'm sure she's adjusted to her considerable weakness." Sasha, who has dark hair slicked back from her forehead and a tanned complexion, motions towards me. "She can use her four Affinities to guide herself. Especially if the dog is coming along. You're needed elsewhere, Eve—there's been a change in the status of the Zurich mission."

  Eve doesn't seem to like this, given the tension rolling off her, which Killer picks up on. But she nods sharply and leans towards me, murmuring, "You have my number if you need anything."

  "I'll be fine," I tell her, feeling frustrated—both with my weakness, and the lack of my Conduits to help it vanish, and with the way my best friend is acting like I'm a complete weakling because of it. "See you soon."

  "See you."

  She departs, and Terrance closes the door behind her. Turning to me—and glancing briefly down at Killer—he asks, "Ellen, how much reconnaissance have you done trackin
g down your assigned Marks?"

  Information-gathering is what he means. Hesitantly, I admit, "Only a little. And never on my own."

  "Well. We're going to be going briefly undercover. The entrance to the Shadow Fold headquarters moves frequently in order to keep it a secret, just like this campus is a secret. Right now, the fastest way to get to the archives is through a bank in the middle of Manhattan. So we'll be pretending to be managers, and you'll be a high-tier customer we're escorting to the back. Ever wanted to be rich?"

  "Who hasn't?"

  "True enough. Just pretend that you already have the money, and act accordingly. I can help you guide you if you need the help."

  Sasha interrupts, "We should let her stand on her own two feet. Our students do best when they're taught to work through their weaknesses—we all have one for a reason."

  She seems to take it personally that everyone wants to guide me, and I can't decide if it's because she's a hardass, or if there's some other reason. That is, until Killer's eyes spot something just behind her left ear—a cochlear implant. While it helps the deaf hear, it's no replacement for actual hearing, and plenty of deaf people dislike the idea that they'd be better off with one. A friend of mine who gave up her cochlear in favor of sign language taught me as much. Maybe Sasha feels similarly herself, and doesn't appreciate the idea that my blindness makes me helpless anymore than her deafness affects her.

  "Very well," Terrance says, something about his tone of voice making me think he's the leader of the five, either officially or simply because of his charisma. The Shadow Fold don't seem to operate with hard and fast ranks, but from what I know, the best assassins usually get higher privileges than others. "Ellen, we're ready to go if you are. Just follow us through the door Perry is about to create—it's not a Cain door, keep in mind, so you may feel a little disoriented stepping through."

  Perry says, "I'll make this one nice and wide so there's plenty of room for your dog, too."

  "No one will see the door, and there isn't any gap between it and the other side, because Perry's Affinity adds an illusion element to his portals," Anya explains, sounding like she's about to launch into a lecture. "So anyone who sees us will only see us step through the front doors of the bank building. Make sure you're in character as you walk through, and remember we don't want to look suspicious."

  "Got it."

  The explanation of Perry's powers explains why he's here: the ability to create portals on demand, that go anywhere, and don't tip off normal people to their existence, has to be valuable. As nice as they are, the Cain doors seem to have a mind of their own at times, and they definitely can be suspicious if someone walks through them in the middle of rush hour traffic, seemingly popping into being out of nowhere to any passersby. That's one reason why using them is tightly controlled by the campus administration.

  I find myself wondering if he's able to create his portals quickly. Watching him do his thing gives me the answer right away: all it takes is a brief moment of concentration and a hand gesture, and suddenly there's a rift in time and space in the middle of the room, revealing a bank on the other side.

  Though Killer briefly balks at the idea of walking through, a little nudge of calmness settles him down. More and more, my connection to him through my Emotional Affinity has been giving him confidence and training him. Now if only I could say the same thing about Penny—my cat is just as mercurial, inscrutable, and willful as ever. If I relied on her to be my eyes I would probably wind up walking into a ditch.

  As we head through the portal together, it becomes clear why all the assassins were dressed well, and why Eve dressed me too. The bank we walk into has soaring ceiling, chrome and tile, a few Greek statues that look uncannily expensive, and well-dressed people smartly walking everywhere. It's not like the banks I normally go to, where working people tired after long days deposit checks and make withdrawals. Everyone here must be required to have a net worth just to walk through the doors.

  It's hard not to be intimidated, but as I remind myself, I'm the one with the power to look into the future and kill people with my force field. There's no reason for me to feel small around these people. Once I'm a full Shadow Fold member like Eve, I could wind up just as rich as them, if not richer. I've seen her house, and its pool. That may not be me, but one day I want it to be.

  I can see it now in my imagination: the Arizona Manor restored to its full glory, with a few additions and updates to improve it. A yard for Killer to run around in, and trees for Penny to climb in search of birds. Wyatt swimming strokes in the pool out back, Grayson lounging on the sofa with books strewn around him, Levi doing acrobatics up and down the spiral staircase, and Mason making friends with all the ghosts in the graveyard.

  Just thinking about it gives me something to strive for. I can see it more clearly than I've ever seen anything before, without my eyes being distracted by the world in front of me. It's as if it's a vision of a future that I could one day hold in my hands.

  "You're doing well," Terrance says as we pass by milling rich people who look at Killer with curiosity in their eyes, taking note of his harness and the way I rest my hand on the grip across the back. "We're almost there. Once we're in the archives, I'll show you the information we have about Brutus. Maybe some of it will help spark your visions."

  "You have information about him?"

  "Very little after his reported death, and much of what we do have is contradictory or suspect. But he was active at certain points in the 1300s and 1700s, especially in the colonial period. I suppose staying underground after faking his own death must have gotten boring."

  "What about Cleopatra?"

  "Mostly we only know about her association with him. He's kept her close since he revived her and tied her life to his. But she did strike out on her own in the 1800s for a brief time period, and even spent some time in America. Then they both disappeared. We think it's possible they have a base somewhere between the Americas and Europe, but we're not sure where it could be. Records are scarce. With your powers, though..."

  Since he's talking about the past, I offer, "I could speak to some ghosts for you. If you think there are any wandering spirits that haven't crossed to the other side who might know about him, I can summon them."

  "Thank you, but we've tried that avenue a few times already. Unfortunately something about Brutus or Cleopatra's many Affinities makes it hard for those in the spirit realm to speak on them. Maybe we'll try again and see if having a Brutus like you do it will change things."

  "We've got to find a new name for those with four Affinities," Anya says in a conversational tone. "It's hard not to get confused between the two. Especially when we spend half our day talking about him right now."

  John, who's barely spoken at all, says, "Here's the door. Get ready, everyone—Ellen, this part might make you lose your stomach, so apologies in advance."

  I do my best to let Killer's eyes guide me as we reach a set of double doors on the far end of the bank lobby. We pause while John pulls out a key card and punches a code into the keypad on the wall. A few curious eyes glance in our direction; I get the feeling that most of the people who work here haven't been beyond this door. Especially when John has to use the key card after the code, and press his thumb against the reader to be identified.

  Now this is what a top secret organization should feel like. I start to actually get a little excited. Maybe on the other side of the doors, there'll be mysterious smoke and candlelight, some monks chanting, a rack of weapons on the door—anything to make the Shadow Fold live up to the drama and theatrics of their name and gaudy rings.

  As the doors open and we walk through, I can't see anything on the other side, even through Killer's eyes. Terrance puts a hand on my elbow to briefly guide me as we stride into the dark. There's a brief sensation of vertigo, and then I take another step—and fall thousands of feet through the air.

  At least, that's what it feels like. In reality there's no falling, just a step forwar
d that jerks my body across time and space. I thought the portal to here was supposed to be tough, but in reality this door is something else. When Killer's eyes focus and I see that we've made it, I almost feel like upchucking everywhere.

  Sasha says, "There's a bathroom just to your right if you need to worship the porcelain god."

  "No, I'm..." I breathe in slowly through my mouth, then out my nose. "I'm good. Or I will be. Let's do this."

  Once I'm up to it, I take the opportunity to survey my surroundings with Killer's eyes.

  All around me is a vast archive full of tall, curving shelves that reach to an impossibly high ceiling. Books, files, paintings, statues, folders—it all looks like a librarian's dream rolled up with a museum and maybe even the burnt Library of Alexandria.

  There are, thankfully, swords on one part of the wall, a few racks of axes in the midst of the shelves, and glass cases with things like skulls, poisonous snakes, and other death-related memorabilia on display.

  So this is where the Shadow Fold keeps all their secrets.

  I can't wait to get my hands on them.

  Chapter 24

  The thing is, though, it's a bit difficult to read through a dog's eyes. This becomes apparent when Terrance excitedly hands me a handwritten journal with an account of Marcus Junius Brutus appearing in a French villa, and Killer turns his nose away instead of focusing on the page in front of him.

  "He's not really a fan of reading," I tell the Shadow Fold members, feeling foolish and embarrassed to be caught incapable of something so basic. "I've been training him with treats, but he only really likes to do it if there's cheese involved."

  John comments, "We really should've seen this coming."

  "It was foreseeable," Sasha agrees. "That said, there has to be a way around it. Ellen, you have four Affinities. Have you tried to use one that isn't your emotional connection to animals in order to see?"