by Lauren Mansy
I hop off the barstool and draw closer to watch them before I glance behind me, where Bray is busy bartering with the tavern’s owner. Half of Bray’s face is covered by a black rag, his wrist wrapped in the same cloth to hide his tattoos. So far, no one’s recognized him as a former soldier who abandoned his post. Greer worries whenever we’re here, but the riches of Kripen are too tempting for Bray to stay away.
Because it’s a military base, you’d think this city would be full of rules. Instead it’s a reeking pit of underground trading and clandestine soldiers, where the Minders are birthed from the mother of the black market.
“Please,” the Sifter boy begs his commander. “Don’t make us do this.”
“Fight,” the commander barks.
Both soldiers refuse until the commander drags another soldier forward and cracks a strip of leather across her back. “I can do this all day,” he yells. “Let’s see how your regiment likes paying for your insubordination.”
I recoil, wondering what these soldiers have done to deserve being pegged against one another as they stare each other down.
The Gifted collapses on the dusty street, convulsing like the addicts in the asylum as the Sifter rips every memory from his companion’s head. And when he dies, his eyes are wide open and white as snow.
I blink twice, escaping the memory to meet Reid’s stare. “Bray must be holding something over you,” I say. “Leverage of some kind to keep you bowing before him?”
Reid’s smirk is laced with anger. “Seems you’ve got me all figured out.”
“Not at all, but at least I know I’m Bray’s prisoner,” I say lightly, angling my head. “Do you know you’re his prisoner too?”
When he doesn’t answer, I turn my back toward him and keep walking.
We hike the rest of the day in silence and make camp long after the sun disappears. It’s not a large clearing but inconspicuous, the overlapping treetops forming a roof above us.
Swinging my pack to the ground, I slump down against a thick stump and stretch my legs on a pile of leaves. My stomach growls, my calves are tight, and with every blink, it gets harder to force my eyelids back open.
Reid drops his pack beside me. “I’ll make sure we’re not being followed.”
Shivering, I wrap my cloak tighter around me as he disappears behind the tree line. Every time a branch breaks or a wolf howls in the distance, I jump. I curse myself for being so skittish, though there aren’t a lot of things worse than meeting bloodthirsty Ghosts in the dead of night. Reid can sift through a dozen minds in a second, but even he’d have a difficult time against a league of Ghosts.
Shadows are taught to stay anonymous, never engaging in a fight that doesn’t involve one of us, but Ghosts are different. In the black market, torturous memories are just as pricy as the pleasant ones, but Greer refused to work with Ghosts. They’re in the business of not only selling but creating the memories they use to make a client’s enemy suffer.
If you’re unlucky enough to meet a Ghost, chances are you’ll come away bloody and unable to remember how you got that way after they steal your memories. They’re the reason why Shadows work in teams while traveling through these woods, why Bray taught us how to disappear if we were being tracked. All the skills I used to hide from him in Craewick.
Lifting my arm from beneath my cloak, I touch the leather bands on my wrist, three of which belonged to Penn, Cade, and Joss. Madame must’ve noticed mine and calculated these bracelets meant something to me because she delivered Cade’s and Joss’s to my cottage after their deaths. She did that for a while, sending gifts that gave me nightmares. Pieces of my mother’s jewelry, a lock of Joss’s dark hair, a silver ring that belonged to Greer. And finally the Notice of Auction . . . her greatest one yet.
The bands embossed with a C and a J are darker than Penn’s because I never could get the bloodstains out. I run my fingers over the soft leather and trail of black stiches I added because it snapped when I pulled it off Penn’s body.
I lift my head at the sound of twigs breaking all around me.
Slowly, I push myself to my feet and slip my knife off my belt, careful to keep it by my side and not make any sudden movements. Sweat slithers down my spine as I count the footsteps. Too many to be Reid. It’s almost pitch-black in the clearing, the moonlight barely able to seep through the treetops, but when the back of my neck tingles, I know without a doubt that I’m being watched.
My fighting skill flares up inside me, the warmth of my Gift lighting my skin on fire. But I haven’t used this talent in four years. My hands shake as I grip the hilt of my knife. Is Reid right? Has living in Craewick dulled my instincts?
One second, I’m the only one in this clearing. The next, three Minders in gray uniforms are in front of me.
For the tiniest moment, I convince myself it’s only a coincidence that we’ve made camp near theirs until the Minder closest to me says, “Julietta Lark. We’ve been looking for you.”
I blink twice, cursing my mind for playing games as memories of Madame flash before me. He says my name like there’s an extra t in the middle. There’s only one person I’ve ever heard do that. But she’s back in Craewick. Far, far away from here.
Juliettta.
My heartbeat rushes to my ears. It’s in the way he angles his head, how his eyes gloss over, that makes this Minder vanish and Madame appear. I see the gold flecks in her dark eyes and the slight clench of her jaw as I back away from him. It’s as if I’m staring straight at her.
The leader raises his palms in mock surrender. “We don’t want to hurt you.”
But we will, is the part he left out. I know how runaways are treated, with their bruised necks and beaten faces. I clench my hands into fists. For four years, I was a willing prisoner of Madame’s, but now? The only way I’m getting dragged back to Craewick is black and blue.
I glance at each soldier. One favors his left side, his weight on that foot and his knife in that hand. The Minder on the right is more balanced, making it harder to read on which side he’ll attack first.
The leader grabs my chin, forcing me to meet his stare. His hand trembles and his eyes are cloudy, muddled with whatever memories Madame gave him to help locate me. He’s weak, an easier target than he believes himself to be.
“Since you’ve been gone, Gwendolyn Lark has stopped breathing. Twice.” A smile flickers across his face as I call him a liar. “What type of daughter abandons her mother days before her auction?”
Knowing the element of surprise is the only thing on my side, I force myself to remain perfectly still until I lunge at him. I dig my feet into the soft dirt, using his own weight against him as we crash into a tree. It knocks the wind out of him. I revel at the shock on his face as I punch his throat and stoop low before he can hit mine.
The Minder on the left attacks first, as predicted, on my right side. I duck under his reach and punch his kidney before shoving the heel of my hand into his nose.
Blood spews down his face as someone grips my arm and wrenches it backwards. The third Minder. Pain sears through my shoulder, but I refuse to drop my knife. I kick his knee as hard as I can. A scream bellows out behind me as he lets go.
I dart toward my pack, going for my other knives, as my legs fly out from under me. My forehead slams against something sharp. An image of Madame flashes before me as the Minder leader whips me around and pins me to the ground. He hits my wrist against a rock, forcing me to drop my knife. I cry out as his forearm bears down on my collarbone, and the chain of the necklace buries deep into my skin.
“We have orders to keep you alive, but it doesn’t matter what condition you’re in when we drag you back to Craewick,” he hisses. “Fight us all you want. No one’s coming to help you.”
I claw at his arms, his Gifted skin tingling beneath mine. I close my eyes and leap into his mind, searching for memories I can use as leverage against him.
Images flash behind my eyelids, passing so quickly I feel dizzy as the Minder shu
ffles his thoughts, clearly sensing I’m inside his head. I don’t let go of his arm, even as he tries to wrench it away. Thinking of those I’d die to protect, I shift to that part of his brain too.
Minds can only keep so much hidden, categorized by importance and emotion. One of his most precious memories—the first time he held his son—is right where I imagined. Unprotected and unsuspecting.
Just waiting for a thief.
Before I latch on, the Minder backhands me so hard across the face that I’m forced to pull out of his mind. Hot, furious anger surges inside me. I bring my hands up and shove his elbows down, then plant my feet on the ground and raise my hips. The resistance is enough to get him off balance. When he wobbles forward, I twist my body, shove him off, and reach for my knife.
But just before I plunge the blade into his back, the Minder’s face goes blank and his knees buckle before he collapses. The other two soldiers are already unconscious, the shackles meant for me in a heap beside them.
When Reid strides into the clearing, I’m relieved, then jealous that he’s knocked out three Minders without laying a hand on them.
We take off immediately and without speaking, knowing we’ve only minutes before these Minders will wake.
Darting between the trees, I grit my teeth as we jump over fallen logs and duck under gnarled branches. Blood trickles down my face, the cut from the Minder’s hit feeling as if it’s on fire. I struggle to keep up with Reid’s quick, nearly effortless stride. He’s careful to keep me within sight, and irritation ripples through me each time his eyes meet mine. I hear myself telling Bray that I don’t need a partner and bristle at the fact that Reid has already proved me wrong.
When we come to a rushing stream, we wade into the water to cover our tracks.
“We need to dress that cut before you lose too much blood,” Reid says.
“What we need is to put more distance between those Minders and us,” I say between breaths, checking to make sure the necklace is still around my neck. “I can keep going.”
Clutching my elbow, Reid yanks me out of the stream onto a mossy bank, forcing me to sit on a fallen log as he digs in his pack, pulls out a rag, and dips it into the water. He brushes the hair that’s come out of my braid away from my face and presses the cool cloth over the cut.
Tears sting my eyes as I take over for him.
“I shouldn’t have left you,” Reid murmurs.
“It . . . wasn’t . . .” I swallow hard as I bear down to staunch the bleeding. “. . . your fault.”
“That’s not what I meant,” he snaps, and I meet his stare. “We’re partners, remember? You didn’t even try to get my attention. You just decided to fight them off on your own.” He points at my cut. “And look how well that worked out for you.”
“Don’t you dare get angry at me,” I hiss. “What did you expect me to do after they blindsided me? Not put up a fight until you got back? If this is about your pride—”
“This isn’t about my pride, Etta! This is about keeping you alive and the fact that your pride, not mine, is going to get you killed.” He snatches a bottle from my pack and mutters, “I’ll get you some water.”
I clench my jaw as I watch him, his words churning over in my mind like the tiny rapids in the stream. How dare he judge me for defending myself. If given the choice, I’d fight those Minders all over again, and I’m just about to tell him that when I bite my tongue. I can’t deny that he’s awakened something inside me that’s deeper than anger, something I’ve longed for ever since betraying the Shadows. Greer had this saying . . . “If you want to work alone, if you don’t want to answer to anyone, then you’re not a Shadow. We depend on one another. We make each other better. Stronger. One is none when two are one.”
Though I don’t trust Reid, being able to depend on someone is a feeling I’ve missed more than I care to admit.
He hands me the bottle filled with ice-cold water, and I press it against my face to numb the pain. I eat a cracker, hoping food might help settle my nerves though my appetite is long gone. Each time I blink, an image of those Minders appears and with it, memories of Madame. I can’t get what they said about my mother out of my head. Has she really stopped breathing?
Reid sits against a log across from me and bites into an apple.
I squint at the shadows behind him, but it’s too dark to see if anyone’s lurking.
“Those Minders won’t track someone they don’t remember,” he tells me.
“Well, that’s a helpful trick.” And because that comes out sounding sarcastic, I add, “I don’t regret fighting those Minders, but I understand your Gift . . . has its uses.”
He raises his eyebrows and takes another slow bite.
I sigh. “Fine. I’m thankful for what you did back there.”
“Madame might be searching for you, but she hasn’t anticipated me. We’d be stupid not to use that to our advantage.” He pauses, tossing the apple core into the woods. “I’m pretty impressed with you though.”
I pour more water onto the rag before placing it back on my cheek. “Impressed with what? My humble apology?”
This earns a slight smile. “By the way you fought. I can tell you stole that skill from a soldier. Your lines are clean, your moves precise. You were holding your own against three Minders. Turns out you’re quite an ally.”
“Just not the ally you want,” I cut in, unable to remember a conversation between us that hasn’t ended in an argument.
“Don’t put words in my mouth. You’re exactly the one I want.”
“What was it you called me this morning? A liar with a hidden agenda?” I ask.
“Bray called you that, not me.”
I let out a laugh. “So if you could choose any other Shadow to be your partner, you’d still want me? Forgive me if I don’t believe that.”
“Believe what you want, but it’s true. People always say being a Sifter is the greatest Gift, but do you know how long it’s been since I had a partner who I didn’t have to worry about accidentally reading their mind?” he asks.
“But you can control your Gift, right? You’re not reading everyone you’re looking at,” I say.
“Sure, like how you don’t steal memories every time you touch someone. But still, it only takes a second of my Gift flaring up to learn more than I should. Most people deserve to keep their secrets.”
I study him. “Well, I’ve never heard a Sifter talk like you, but I guess it’s not always a gift to know what someone thinks of you.”
“Some people make that abundantly clear without having to read their thoughts.”
This time, I meet his grin.
“But really, Etta, it’s a relief to be around you. Not having to monitor everything I say and worry our conversations will be stolen . . .” Reid says, lacing his fingers behind his head. “You’re the most trustworthy person out there.”
I narrow my eyes, his words surprising. I’ve never thought about my unreadability this way. It’s benefited me, that’s for sure, but I didn’t consider how others might view it. “Prove it then,” I say with a smirk, expecting he won’t answer. “Tell me a secret.”
Reid doesn’t hesitate. “I sent Ryder on a job to Blare. She should be safe until we get back.”
CHAPTER
7
A cool breeze blows through our makeshift camp, but I feel warmth spreading from deep inside me at Reid’s words.
“The job will take her team a while, especially with the travel involved. Ryder is brave but she’s so small—”
“And if Bray attacks Madame, Ry will be the first one running toward Craewick,” I murmur.
Reid nods. “We both know Ryder will find her way there eventually, but if she’s delayed, maybe she’ll have a shot at living even if things go wrong with Porter.”
My stomach twists at the thought of just how wrong things could go with Porter, and I press my lips into a line. “I wish I knew you better. Then I could tell if you were lying.”
He draw
s closer and holds his hand out.
For a few seconds, I just stare at him, shocked he’s willing to let me inside his mind. If our roles were reversed, there’s no way I’d do the same. I place my hand in Reid’s, his skin tingling as he lets his guard down, and I close my eyes.
At the tip of his mind is a picture of Ryder. She’s standing with a few other Shadows in the woods, a dark pack swung across her shoulders. Seeing Ry comforts me, but Reid’s emotions are far more powerful. People lie but the feelings weaved within memories never do. I feel his protectiveness—how grateful he is to have found a way to keep her safe.
I can’t help but smile as I drink in the memory and open my eyes before slipping my hand out of Reid’s. Pride swells up inside me as I think of Ryder, and it’s difficult to tell where his emotions end and mine begin. We’re both proud of her, strengthened by her fearless, loyal spirit.
For a moment, everything goes away. The throbbing in my head dulls, and the fear of more Minders finding us vanishes. All that matters is somewhere out there, Ryder is traveling far away from the upcoming battle for the Realms.
“Ever since I recruited Ryder, you’re all she’s talked about,” Reid says as he sits across from me once again. “But she never told me your name until last night when she begged me to help your mother. She just always called you her best friend.”
I frown. Though Ry’s words tug at my heart, Reid’s words confuse me. “You mean you haven’t read Ryder’s mind? You never saw me in her memories?”
“I only read her once to prove she’d be loyal to the Shadows. Like I said, most people deserve to keep their secrets. Everything I know about her and you, I let Ryder tell me herself.” He smiles a little. “And you’re her hero.”
I try not to act too surprised to hear him talk this way, so different than most other Sifters. “Let me see if I have this straight. You’re choosing to trust me because Ryder trusts me?” At his brief nod, I add, “I must be a huge disappointment for you then.”
He pauses. “You’re stronger than you think, as those Minders found out the hard way.”