Gift of Secrets

Home > Fantasy > Gift of Secrets > Page 11
Gift of Secrets Page 11

by Amir Lane


  Of course, just as I wondered how long we had left before our brains were blown out, heavy footsteps thudded against the steps. Was that Angelo, or someone else? I couldn’t let myself get my hopes up. It could have been someone else from the Black Birches. I shifted to sit upright again, pressing my back to the wall. I held my hand behind my back and pushed warm energy into my hand. The throb between my temples was already bad enough that the added pressure didn’t make it much worse. Audra’s head tipped down, then back up. Her face gave nothing away.

  The barrier was unnecessary. The figure that stepped through the door, dressed in a tight-fitting t-shirt and jeans, was too nonchalant to be anybody but Angelo. A pair of sunglasses rested on top of his head. His scarf was black this time. He looked around casually, like he showed up late to a party. The box was in his hand.

  “Can’t leave you alone for ten minutes, can you?” he said in an Italian-accented drawl. He eyed Number One and gave a little nod of his head. “Ciao, bello.”

  Number One ignored the greeting and strode across the room with the cigarette still dangling from his lips. I must not have been asleep long at all. He nodded toward Angelo. Number Two grunted, but pat Angelo down for weapons, as if there was anywhere on his body where he could hide one in those tight clothes. Never mind that some of our kinds could be weapons themselves. Was it smart for him to get in so close? They didn’t seem at all concerned about the fact that Angelo could have attacked them, with or without powers. They must have thought Number One’s gun trained on us was enough of a deterrent.

  “At least buy me dinner first. You wanted this?”

  Angelo held the box up with both hands. It seemed bigger than I remembered.

  “Give it to her. I want her to open it,” Number One said, nodding to me.

  Angelo looked over at me. “Two minutes.”

  Two minutes? Two minutes for what?

  In the time it took me to blink, Angelo passed his hand beneath the bottom of the box. An extra slot flickered in and out of sight. There was a click, and the bottom swung open. A gun fell out of it. He must have added the extra compartment.

  Angelo caught the gun, held the muzzle under his jaw, and, before I could even scream at him to stop, pulled the trigger. The bang made my heart lurch and my ears ring. Blood and brain matter splattered on the top of the door frame. Gravity pulled Angelo’s body to the floor with a heavy thud.

  Audra screamed.

  “What the fuck!” Number Two shouted.

  Two minutes. Two minutes until he regenerated. Two minutes until his body went up in flames, giving us more than enough of a distraction to get out of here.

  “What the fuck!”

  I threw my hands up as Number One pointed his gun back at me. The barrier formed between us, thick enough for the bullet to bounce off of. Pain rattled through my collar. The second shot bruised my stomach. Number Two grabbed his gun from the holster on his hip and fired at us too.

  “Audra!” I shouted. “Audra, we need to get out of here. Can you take care of the wall?”

  “You think I can break down a whole fucking wall? What do you think I am?”

  “Can you try? I can't hold this up forever.”

  I wasn’t sure I could even hold this up for two minutes. Had it only been two minutes after Bromley had ripped his heart out of his chest? It had certainly taken longer than two minutes when I’d first found him dead in the street.

  “Two minutes,” I whispered to myself through clenched teeth.

  If Audra heard me, she didn’t say anything. She kicked a hole in the wall with her back pressed to the desk for leverage. She kept kicking, even as Number Two replaced the magazine in his gun and continued firing with fresh bullets. I kept my eyes on the box forgotten beside Angelo’s body. I had to get it before he burst into flames and destroyed it. Rowan left that box to me, which meant it was mine to protect.

  “Fucking bitch,” Number One snarled.

  Some people did not like me. What could I do about that?

  Sweat soaked my shirt and jeans. Behind me, Audra kept working at the wall. I wiped my forehead on my shoulder.

  I wasn’t sure how long I could keep the barrier up. My skin darkened with black bruises. My arms trembled under the weight of the barrier and the force of the bullets. They must have realized the bullets weren’t going to bring it down, because they stopped shooting at us. The funny thing was that a few more shots and it would have crumpled. Their impatience might have saved my life.

  Number Two came at me. I dropped the barrier when he was a mere foot from me and slammed my fist into the base of his sternum. The cartilage cracked from the combined speed of my fist and him running at me. Number Two doubled over. Number One’s curse quickly turned into a terrified shout.

  It must have been two minutes.

  The heat of the fire warmed my skin. Number Two rushed to Number One to pull him away from the quickly growing flames. I dropped my hands and took a step forward. Flames licked at Rowan's box. I had to get it before it burned. Audra grabbed the back of my shirt.

  “Let go of me!”

  “Your friend is dead! We have to go!”

  It wasn’t Angelo that I was reaching out for. He would regenerate and reappear in who-knew-where, but I needed the box. Audra didn't give me a chance to get out of her grip. For someone so small, she was strong. Her arm wound around my waist. Somehow, she managed to get me over her shoulders in a fireman hold and carried through the hole she'd made in the wall. She dropped me on the floor, only to pull me up to my feet and shove me hard. Smoke was already filtering into the hall. I covered the lower half of my face with the back of my hand and breathed through my nose.

  “Move! Run! Go!” Audra shouted, pushing me again.

  I didn't have much choice not to. I passed the door we'd entered the room through. The fire was growing, far too strong for me to push through. It hurt my heart, but I had to console myself with the knowledge that at least nobody else would be able to get access to Rowan's secrets. With only a brief second of hesitation, I ran down the stairs and out the front doors. Audra was right on my heels. I turned right instead of left, away from the way we’d come. I kept running without paying attention to where I was going until Audra's hand grabbed the back of my shirt. She slammed me into a wall. Wind rushed from my lungs. I pushed back against the wall. Long, malleable branches wound around my wrists and held me in place. One wrapped around my neck and squeezed. I gasped for breath.

  “All right, Faiza Asghar. You’re going to tell me who the fuck you are, what the fuck your involvement is with the Black Birches, and what the fuck that was!”

  Chapter Thirteen

  The branch tightened around my throat, cutting off my air supply. My hands jerked up in an attempt to loosen it, but the branches around them held them in place. I couldn’t think past the way my head swam.

  “I'm a cop!” I gasped.

  As soon as the words were out, I regretted them. What was I doing? There was no way she wasn’t going to kill me now.

  Audra snorted. “I'm sure.”

  “I mean it!” The branches loosened enough for me to speak more easily. “My name is Fairuz Arshad, Special Crimes, 12th Precinct. My commanding officer is Staff Sergeant Kieron Dermott Harper.”

  Why was I still talking? I should have shut up and pretended it was the first thing that came to mind instead of rambling like an idiot. My neck throbbed. I swallowed a few times. It did nothing to ease the pain, or lessen the urge to cry.

  Audra pulled me forward and wrenched my hands behind my back, ignoring everything I was saying. She did pause when I recited my badge number. For a moment, she said nothing.

  “You’re actually a cop,” she said softly.

  I nodded. It was too late to deny it now. The branches pulled away from my hands. I rubbed my neck and wrists.

  “You have got to be the stupidest cop I’ve ever met. Is this your first day on the job?”

  There was no hostility in her voice. On the
contrary, her shoulders relaxed and her hands went into the pockets of her ill-fitting jeans.

  “I don’t do much undercover work,” I admitted, my face feeling hot.

  “Clearly. Jesus. How’d you end up in this mess? Does somebody want you out of the way?”

  Her tone was almost teasing, but something about her words made my stomach twist from something other than exhaustion and hunger. Did somebody want me out of the way?

  “Rowan was my partner. He left me that box. Your name was in it. I did some looking into any connection between the two of you. My search flagged Interpol’s servers.”

  I stretched my arms as I spoke. I was going to have to make an appointment with my physiotherapist when I got home. I should have given myself the extra week my doctor had recommend to recover before going to work. A few days off should fix it, if I had any saved.

  “How do I know you're not lying?” Audra asked, but it almost sounded like she was starting to believe me.

  I was too tired to argue.

  “You can either believe me, or you can kill me. It’s up to you.”

  I really hoped those two options were mutually exclusive.

  Audra made a sound like she was about to say something, but fell quiet. Her brow was furrowed in thought. She watched me carefully for a long few seconds, then looked over her shoulder before finally speaking again. Her voice was so quiet, I had to lean in to hear her.

  “I’m with Interpol,” she whispered.

  “Bullshit.”

  The word was out of my mouth before I could stop it. It made too much sense. Someone involved in a gang would never pretend to be a cop when they weren’t. It was too dangerous. It was the sort of thing that would get her killed on sight. And it explained why it was so important for her to get a confession from Number One and Two about staging the crash. But it was too convenient.

  I wanted to believe she was a cop. I needed help to bring down the Black Birches and if she was an undercover Interpol officer, she was exactly the person to help me do it. She probably knew more about the inner workings of the Black Birches than anybody else.

  “You can check. My handler is Finín Quinn. He works out of the Belgium office,” Audra said.

  My stomach dropped. Finín hadn’t given any indication that he knew Audra. It was the opposite; he’d acted like he only knew her by name. What was he playing at? I chose to give him the benefit of the doubt and believe he didn’t want to risk me blowing her cover for now.

  “Finín Quinn is the one who came to me. He told me you had information about Rowan. He didn’t tell me you were— He didn’t tell me he knew you.”

  She stopped walking, her eyes wide.

  “Quinn is here? In the city?”

  I nodded.

  “You’re sure it’s him?”

  I wasn’t. I’d only met the man once, but Kieron certainly knew him well enough. I nodded again.

  Audra pushed her hands through her hand to undo her ponytail, then tied it back up. Something was wrong. A lot of things were probably wrong, but there was something about Finín Quinn specifically.

  There had always been something wrong about Finín Quinn, but I’d never been able to put my finger on it. I still couldn’t.

  What was it about him that made me so paranoid? He was Kieron’s friend. He was Interpol. I should have trusted him implicitly, the same way I trusted Kieron and Indira. The same way I’d trusted Rowan. I should have at least trusted him as much as I trusted Audra in this moment.

  Audra let out a long sigh and turned to me, her feet planted firmly on the ground and her jaw set hard.

  “I haven’t heard from him or anybody in months. With the Biarozy heir coming back, the Birches have been scrambling to take out anybody they think might not be loyal to their leader. I thought this deportation was their way of bringing me home, but now I’m not so sure.”

  If that was true, then I absolutely understood her concern. Why would Finín wait so long to come asking for her? Did it make sense for him to pretend he didn’t know who she was or that she really was a criminal? I tried to think what Kieron would do under similar circumstances. All I could do, though, was wonder why nobody had ever come back for her before now, especially if they thought she might have been in danger. What reason would Kieron ever have to just leave me undercover?

  “How long was it since you heard from him?” I asked.

  She rolled her eyes up in thought. “About three months.”

  The Toronto Police might not have been as high level as Interpol, but three months was ridiculous. I knew of people who spent decades undercover, who occasionally had to stay under longer due to circumstances beyond anyone’s control or because they needed longer to get the information they needed. But three months with no rhyme or reason? With no contact at all? I couldn’t make sense of it.

  Audra didn’t seem to have any more ideas than I did, if the continued frown on her face was any indication. She’d likely spent the last months trying to figure out why she’d been forgotten. I doubted I could give her any answer now. She started walking down the street again, away from the burning building and toward the more active street. I followed. For someone so short, she walked fast. She was probably used to walking with taller people like myself.

  “You really aren’t used to going undercover, are you?” she asked.

  I shook my head. There was no sense pretending. Total honesty was the best thing for both of us right now.

  “It’s my first major undercover job.”

  “Nobody else was available?”

  “Nobody.”

  “You don’t think that’s weird?” she asked.

  Of course I did. The implication made me stiffen. Paranoia was a dangerous thing.

  “We’re short-staffed, and it’s hard to get somebody at the last minute like that.”

  Audra shook her head. “Finín Quinn is a better planner than that. He wouldn’t need someone to go in at the last minute.”

  If that was true, then why had he done it this way? Why had he insisted like that?

  “Something is wrong,” I said, out loud this time.

  Audra nodded in agreement and asked me to tell her everything. So I did. I told her what I knew about Rowan, about Rutherford Bromley and Angelo. I even told her about Raisa Karim’s visit, just because it had happened, and about Elias’ spell to keep me from being recognized.

  “I knew there was something up with you,” she said, sounding satisfied. “I think it’s wearing off, though. I’m not having such a hard time focusing on your face.”

  “What about you?” I asked.

  “It’s a long story.”

  “We have time.”

  She shrugged. A joint in her shoulder clicked. I reached back and rubbed my own shoulder. I was going to need a break soon. The brief minutes I’d slept hadn’t helped much. Either she felt the same, or she saw the falter in my step. One of her small hands caught my elbow to pull me into a Tim Horton’s.

  “We don’t have any money,” I mumbled.

  My eyes swept over the coffee shop. A few college or university students were slumped over tables, textbooks splayed across them. Two women sat chattering and balancing babies on their laps. Teenagers sat with iced cappuccinos. Nobody looked at us. My skin itched, my nerves firing on overdrive. Being on the run was making me more paranoid than usual, which was saying something. Was this how Rowan felt all the time?

  “I took some from that house. Don’t look at me like that. You’re obviously starving.”

  I couldn’t argue with that. My stomach was a few minutes from eating itself. Every now and then, my vision swam. I didn’t feel good.

  “What do you want?” she asked.

  “Anything without bacon, and a tea. Coffee, actually. One milk.”

  I took a spot in the corner next to the windows. The position gave me enough of a vantage point to watch the entire shop, including who was entering and leaving. If I turned my head slightly, I could see the same videos loopin
g through on the TV. I watched the horoscopes play with my chin on my knuckles. A regular coffee wasn’t going to be enough to keep me awake. I missed my little Turkish coffee maker sitting right next to Ariadne’s one-serving blender. I missed the way she’d put the coffee on first, then wait until I started ignoring my alarm to run the blender.

  Ariadne considered smoothies a perfect breakfast. They were full of fruit and fibre, she could drink it while driving, and they kept her full until lunch. Plus, liquids didn’t stay in the stomach as long as solid foods.

  When I’d first met her, she was meticulous about every calorie she put in her mouth. It had scared me. She was much better now, so I didn’t fuss about that one lingering habit. And there was something to be said for being able to drink a meal. Some days when I was running around and didn’t have the time or energy for real food, I’d stop somewhere to buy one for lunch. They weren’t nearly as healthy as hers, usually full of fat and added sugar, but that wasn’t the point.

  The point was that I missed her. How long would it be before I could see her again? She was going to kick my ass when she saw me, I was sure of it. I had it coming. If it meant I was home with her, I didn’t mind it.

  I jumped a little when Audra sat across from me and set a pair of trays on the table. She shouldn’t have been able to sneak up on me like that. I took the paper cup from the tray closest to me and opened the tab. The heat around the cardboard sleeve felt amazing against my skin. My blood pressure lowered from how are you alive to seek medical attention. I alternated between shoving overcooked potato wedges and the undercooked chicken sandwich into my mouth. It felt like a lifetime since I’d eaten any decent food.

  “Oh my God,” Audra groaned. “When did potatoes start tasting so good?”

  “Trust me, they get better.”

  She laughed. When she laughed, her entire face lit up. Lines crinkled around her eyes. It was bright and genuine and caught me off guard, but it only lasted a moment. She quickly worked her expression back into that half-scowl. Part of me wanted to ask if it was a dryad thing, or if she and Rowan had learned that face from each other.

 

‹ Prev