by Amir Lane
Whether she wanted me to or not.
Chapter Eleven
Following Audra wasn't nearly as easy when she wasn’t trying to be followed. She clearly knew how to lose a tail. If I didn't already know how to avoid being lost, I would have had no chance of keeping up with her. The first time she moved into a thicker crowd, I nearly did lose her. She was much shorter than most people. If I hadn't been looking in exactly the right direction at exactly the right moment, I would have missed her ducking around a corner at the last second.
She kept doing the same thing, travelling in crowds and using the cover to dart through side roads and alleys. It was clever. It was what I would have done, but I didn’t think I would have been nearly as graceful about it. She gave no indication that she was even considering the fact that she might have been followed. She walked like she knew exactly where she was going.
I bet she does.
The way she navigated, it was as if she'd lived here for years. It was too precise to have been simply from reading maps. I'd lived here for over ten years and I still got lost outside of the Weston borough. She must have spent much more time here than I thought.
My headache was returning, but only originating from where I'd been hit instead of the sinus headache that had been persisting all week. The iron and silver must have been nearly out of my system. I flexed my fingers and reached for the source of the barriers deep inside me. It had been so long, in a moment of panic, I worried I’d forgotten how to create them. But after a deep breath, a burn that was almost comforting made its way across my hip in a pattern I'd known since childhood. The Arabic prayer wound up my side, flickering in and out as I struggled to maintain my focus. I let the words fade away, both because I didn't want to draw attention to myself and because I needed to conserve my energy.
We walked for what must have been hours. I didn't know how she did it. My feet were blistering, my calves were cramping, and my skull was throbbing. She just kept going. I wished I'd brought the ibuprofen with me. My throat was so dry, I had to cough into the crook of my elbow several times to ease some of the itching. She must have been too focused on her destination to notice.
Her destination was an abandoned office building.
Why is it always abandoned buildings?
By now, Ariadne must have heard what had happened to me. If I survived this mess, she was going to kill me herself. I could only imagine the hell she was giving Kieron right now.
Audra wrenched the front door open and stepped inside without looking back. Either she knew I was there and didn’t care, or she was very confident she hadn't been followed. I waited a few moments before creeping up to the door to peek inside. Nobody was visible through the dirty glass. I gave it another few seconds to make sure nobody walked past, and opened the door, slowly and quietly. Unlike Audra, I did look back to see if I'd been followed. Nobody was close enough to be suspicious.
Now would have been the time where a smart person might have called for backup. All I had to do was find anybody with a cell phone and call the precinct. I had Kieron and Indira’s direct lines memorized. Ariadne and Angelo’s, too. There were more than enough people for me to call. Even if I spontaneously forgot all of them, all I had to do was call 9-1-1 and tell them I'd spotted a wanted fugitive. It was that easy.
I did none of those things, because I was reckless and impulsive and likely to get myself killed one of these days, and because I didn't know what was happening inside that building. Audra could have been alone, or she could have already been dead.
I moved into the building. Voices echoed down from the second floor. I followed them, keeping my back pressed to the wall and one hand in front of me. My heart raced as I made my way up the stairs. With each painfully slow step, the words became clearer until I could understand them.
“— name surfaced alongside Rowan Oak’s,” a man was saying. He spoke with an Eastern European accent. “Now why would that be?”
“How the fuck should I know? I don’t even know him,” Audra said.
“So you don’t know anything about the box he had? The one with information on the Black Birches?”
Was he talking about my box? The one Rowan had left me? How did he even know about that?
“What box? I don’t know him!”
“Then it's a coincidence that Interpol is looking into a connection between you two,” a second man said.
His voice wasn't as deep as the first man’s, and his accent was slightly different. The way his vowels fell were heavier.
“It's got to be! He's, what, a cop? Who even is he? I've been behind bars the past four months. Word doesn't travel as fast as it used—”
The second man said the name I’d seen on Rowan's hospital records. It was enough to make Audra stop talking and pause. I stopped walking, terrified a step would creak and give me away. My heart must have been more than loud enough for them to hear.
“The Biarozy heir? She's dead,” Audra finally said.
“He,” Number Two said, and I almost liked him for it, “isn't. He changed his name and his face, but he is still very much alive.”
Hope filled my chest until Number One added, “At least he was three months ago. Who knows now?”
I was about half-way up the stairs now. It was actually physically painful to move this slowly, but I couldn't risk tipping them off. Plus, I wanted to what where this was going.
“So you planned that ambush. For what purpose? To kill me for maybe possibly knowing this cop?” Audra snorted.
“We know you helped some of those girls get away,” Number One said.
There was no inflection in his voice to suggest whether it was a good thing or a bad thing. My guess was bad.
“They were kids.”
If Audra had been helping girls get out of the gangs, it could have been why Rowan had her name. If they didn’t actually know each other, he could have found out about her while he’d worked for Sex Crimes. Whatever she was or wasn't, she had at least some decency in her. It was a relief to know my gut feeling wasn’t simply naïve optimism.
“Maybe,” Number One agreed. “But that wasn't your decision to make.”
The floor ahead of me creaked just slightly. It could have been Audra shifting her weight, or one of the men moving. There was no way for me to tell. I took advantage of the sound to take the next two steps faster. I was so, so close to the second floor now. There were only a few steps between me and the top of the stairs.
“Then you break me out because you think I might have helped this Rowan guy?” Audra said before snorting.
“Or because you're talking to cops,” Number One said.
Was that my fault? Was I the cop he was talking about? No, I couldn't be. Nobody knew I was a cop, nobody outside Special Crimes.
Except Finín, a quiet voice persisted.
But Finín worked for Interpol, he wouldn't tip the Birches off about Audra. Yes, dirty cops existed. Even the inspector Sabine replaced had been suppressing cases. Kieron trusted Finín, though. He couldn’t have been dirty. He couldn’t.
Why did I have to keep reminding myself that?
“But you're admitting you staged that accident,” Audra said.
I frowned. Why did she need confirmation?
“Yes. And now we're going to kill you,” Number Two said.
There was movement in the room. I still had the element of surprise. I ran up the last few stairs and into the room. It was empty except for its three occupants, and a corner desk wedged against the wall. It was like stepping into a photograph. For a split second, everything seemed to stand still, then move in slow-motion. The man closer to the far wall raised a gun at Audra, while the other man moved to the side. Audra threw her hands up, white bark spreading over her skin. Nobody seemed to notice me until I tackled Audra to the floor.
At that same instant, the loud pop of a gun firing through a silencer echoed through the room.
I didn't need to think about it. My body sensed that it was in danger a
nd reacted. My skin warmed. The heat stemming from the glowing purple writing curled around my skin and up into my fingers. I threw my hand up, and the purple barrier flickered into existence. The bullet slammed into it with enough speed and force to crack the it. Pain radiated through me, and the bruise formed almost immediately on my bicep. I screamed through clenched teeth.
Audra's fingers dug into my shoulder. Still holding the barrier as another bullet was fired, I let her pull me back behind the desk. The cheap wood wasn't enough to keep the bullets out. I didn't know how long I could keep the barrier up. Even with both hands holding it, it flickered and wavered. There might have still been some silver in my system. I was hungry, exhausted, and in pain. All I wanted to do was go home to Ariadne and cry. There was no way I would be able to hold it for long.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Audra demanded.
“Saving your life, apparently.”
After the fourth or fifth shot, the bullets stopped coming. The men spoke low in a language I didn't understand. Number Two moved toward us. I tried to raise the barrier, but it crumbled the second he touched it. His hands curled around my wrist. He wrenched me to feet hard enough to make me cry out. I didn't fight him. There was no way I could. He was much bigger and much stronger than I was. Even for a dryad, he was tall and bulky, with a painfully strong grip. He took both my wrists in one of his hands and held them above my head.
“Let go of her!”
When Audra stood, the man holding me aimed his gun at her. She shrank back despite the angry glare on her face. Her hands clenched and unclenched. Tension lined her neck and jaw.
“Who the fuck is she?” he demanded.
“She’s nobody. My cellmate. She must have followed me here. Why are you here?”
“Maybe she’s a cop,” Number One, suggested in an almost bored tone.
Audra snorted. “That’s only the second dumbest thing you’ve said so far. Look at her.”
Number Two didn't look at me. Instead, he looked at Number One, who gave a dismissive wave of his hand.
“It doesn’t matter. Kill them both.”
Chapter Twelve
This was bad.
Despite Kieron's prediction about my lifespan, I wasn't ready to die. I had to think fast. There had to be something I could use to buy myself some time. Nothing within arm’s reach could help me, and trying to pull up a barrier only sent a stab of pain through my sinuses. There had to be something.
“I have the box!” I shouted. Number One held his hand up, and Number Two lowered the gun. “The box you were talking about. Biarozy’s. I have it.”
“Now why would you have it?” Number One asked.
That was a great question. I kept my eyes on the men as I scrambled to come up with an answer.
“I was hired to steal it from his father. The man who hired me never paid me, so I kept it.”
“You kept it,” Number Two said with doubt.
“He wasn’t going to come looking for it after I put him in a coma.”
The men snorted. Number Two even laughed.
“So where is the box now?” Number One asked in the same tone he might use when humouring a child.
I squeezed my eyes shut, picturing my bedroom. Ariadne’s side of the bed a mess, mine as neat as I could make it. Her hoodie hanging over the doorknob behind the door. Pictures of my family on the walls. My jewelry stands taking over the left corner of the dresser. In the back corner of the closet, a floorboard I’d pulled up to use as a hiding spot.
“With someone safe. If I don't come back, he'll take it to the police.”
That threat was going to get me killed. I knew it. So why did I say it?
Just buy yourself some time. Think fast and do something.
The end of the silencer pushed against my forehead. I forced myself to lock eyes with Number Two. If he was going to shoot me, he’d have to look me in the eyes when he did it.
“Okay,” Number One said with an easy shrug. “We’ll take that bluff. Call your friend. Have him bring it to us.”
Number One’s well-tailored suit spoke to money. It barely moved as he approached. The bark on his skin was dark brown and rough, but not quite coarse. I didn't know nearly enough about trees or dryads to be able to identify more than that. Though he was slimmer than Number Two still holding my arms, the bulging of his forearms meant I couldn't discount him as a fighter. I didn't know what any of these people could do. He held a small flip phone in his hand. It was shiny and clean, unscratched, but it still had an antenna.
Number Two released my wrists and clamped a hand on my shoulder to keep me from escaping. I landed heavy on my heels, and blood rushed painfully back into my shoulders. It almost hurt worse than when they were above my head.
“Your friend’s phone number. I don't want you doing anything stupid like calling the police.”
Which was exactly what I should have done before coming in here.
I squeezed my eyes shut in thought. Thank God it was such an easy number to remember. Toronto area code, same three digits in my phone number, 1793. The buttons beeped as Number One pushed them. Each one made me heart lurch. The phone rang on speakerphone. Number One only held the phone close enough for me to speak into.
What if he doesn't answer?
What if he was like Ariadne and didn't answer calls from numbers he didn't recognize? If I left a voicemail, how long would it take him to listen to it?
Before I could start to panic too much, the phone clicked.
“Ciao, Meran speaking.”
I hesitated. The voice sounded like Angelo’s.
“Angelo?” I said.
“Yes?”
I let out a relieved breath. It didn’t matter why he’d answered as Meran, all that mattered was that I’d reached the right person.
“It's me. I need you to do something.”
I didn't take my eyes off Number One’s face. Angelo was silent for a moment.
“I heard about the crash. Are you in trouble, bella?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want me to call anyone.”
“No. I need you to bring me a box.”
Still watching Number One’s stern express, I described the box and where it was hidden. I didn’t give any more details than necessary. On the other end of the line, I heard scratching like Angelo writing down what I was saying.
“Where are you?” he asked.
Number One answered, reciting the address, then added, “You have one hour before we put a hole in your friend’s pretty head.”
“If you hurt her, I will kill you myself,” Angelo said.
“Hm. We'll see.”
He was going to kill me anyway. No matter what we did, Audra and I were dead. We were dead the second we set foot in this place. Why did she even come here? She must have known they wanted to kill her. They must have been the ones who sent that witch who had been there when the van crashed. So what if they'd admitted it? We couldn't do anything about it if we were dead.
Number One folded the phone shut and tucked it into a pocket inside his jacket.
“Put her with Miss Jansons. And keep her there.”
Number Two had no qualms throwing me to the floor by the desk. I braced myself against the impact. The bruises that had already formed on my arms throbbed. A wave of dizziness washed over me.
“Get on the ground,” Number Two said.
I was already on the ground. A moment later, Audra sat in the floor next to me and helped me sit upright.
“You stupid bitch,” she muttered. “You couldn't just leave it alone.”
“I'm not very good at leaving things alone.”
Audra snorted, probably in agreement. She had no idea.
I had an hour or until Angelo showed up with Rowan's box to come up with a way out of this mess. Though there was nothing in the box that would shut down the Birches or even put a single one of them behind bars, I wasn't going to let them have it. It was private and important to Rowan. In hindsigh
t, I probably could have asked Angelo to bring any old box. It wouldn't have mattered; all I'd needed was the excuse to not get killed on the spot.
What to do now? How to get out of here? Preferably with Audra. Trying to predict what Angelo would do wasn't easy. I didn't know him that well. When we'd gone after Rutherford Bromley, he'd certainly been the more level-headed of us. I'd been distracted by the fact that Rowan had been in trouble. But Angelo had also known how to kill Bromley, and he'd had a plan. He'd also used me as bait a little bit. I couldn't hold that against him, not when he'd helped me stop a serial killer. Even if it was for selfish reasons, even if it was only because Bromley had magically bound them, he'd helped me.
Did he consider this repaying a debt, or did he actually care about me? We'd really only known each other for no more than 24 hours. He was hundreds of years old. What was one day to him?
And yet, he came back. He came to visit me in prison. He was bringing me Rowan's box. I trusted him, and I trusted that he would bring some kind of plan. Still, I needed a backup in case he didn't.
Or in case he doesn't show up at all.
Number Two stood in front of Audra and I, boxing us against the desk while Number One sucked on a cigarette. I could barely smell it.
Audra kept her back turned to me. The line of her shoulders was hard. I wondered if she was trying to come up with a plan, too. She must have been. She didn't seem like the sort to sit around and wait to be killed.
There were two of us and two of them. With my powers returning, we might have had a chance. I wasn't willing to risk it. Not yet.
I didn't know how I managed to fell asleep. My limbs were stiff and my head throbbed when I finally awoke. It hurt to open my eyes.
“Sleep well, princess?” Audra asked with a sneer.
“Bite me,” I muttered.
I needed at least two coffees and another handful of ibuprofen before I was in the mood to be pleasant again. I shifted on the uncomfortable floor. How long had I been asleep? It could have been long if Angelo wasn't here and we weren't dead.