by A A Woods
Yet there was a whole secret community of people like them, working for Hans and living their lives and maybe doing other things Aquila couldn’t even imagine.
“Listen to me,” Ian said, low and urgent. “I know what you must be thinking, but you haven’t seen the whole picture yet. There are forces in this world you don’t understand.”
“Because you never explained them!” Aquila shouted, losing his temper.
“I was trying to protect you.”
“Yeah, well it didn’t work.”
This time, Aquila was the one who hung up. He was shaking, his world collapsing in on him faster than he could put it back together. Something was going on at home, something he didn’t have the bandwidth to be a part of. Moose was still missing, and Eliza was gone.
Turning slowly, Aquila’s eyes fell on Joe.
Party tonight.
It was his only lifeline.
“You ok?” Joe asked, hands held out like he was approaching a wild animal.
Maybe he was.
“Will you help me find her?” Aquila asked. “Help me deal with Hans?”
“Absolutely,” Joe said without hesitation.
Chapter Thirty-Eight: Begging Favors
As Aquila hunched over Eliza’s laptop, looking for anything he could find on Hans Schneider, Joe retreated to the kitchen. Joe hadn’t had the courage yet to tell Aquila about his conversation with Moose, much less what Moose was tangled up in. Everything felt messy and chaotic, but Joe had the strange sensation that, if he could just find the right puzzle piece, he’d be able to solve it.
And he had a hunch about who might have that piece.
Squeezing himself into the pantry, Joe dialed the number Tasha had given him. She’d said it went to a burner phone that could only be used once.
Well, now seemed like as good a time as any.
She answered on the first ring but didn’t say anything, waiting for Joe to speak first.
“Tasha,” Joe said with a sigh. “I need a favor.”
“You already got one.”
“No, things have gotten worse.” He paused, chewing on his lower lip. Would Tasha understand his feelings about Eliza, different from the ones he could feel building between them but still strong. Eliza might have broken his heart a year ago, but she was his friend, someone who knew what he’d gone through last October. Someone who had been through so much with him.
Burrowing deeper in the narrow space, Joe began to whisper. “My friend is missing. Eliza Mason. I’m sure you’ve searched her, so please, I need to know where she is.”
“I haven’t heard anything about that,” Tasha said, a strange distance in her voice.
“We think Hans took her. He tried to get Aquila to work for him, because of Moose.” Joe ran a frantic hand through his hair. “Dammit, I don’t even know anymore. But please, you have to help us find her.”
“I don’t have to do anything,” Tasha said.
Joe took a breath. “No. But I’m asking you to. Please.”
There was a silence on the other end that made Joe wonder. He’d laughed with her, made jokes, seen her apartment. But really, he knew almost nothing about this strange young woman with chameleon skin. She was one of Hans’s Abnormals, an escapee of his awful Circus. But what did she really want?
Whose side was she on?
The only thing he could say for certain is that she hated Hans more than he did.
“I’ll look into it,” she said at last.
“But how will I—”
“I’ll be in touch.”
She ended the call.
“Dammit,” Joe growled, glaring at the phone.
He almost missed dealing with Amile Robillard and the soldiers at Fitzgerald Base. At least that had been simple. Survive. Save the Vagabonds. Escape. But this was turning into a mind-bending puzzle with them in the middle. Tasha, Hans, Moose, Aquila. Each piece with their own motivations and goals, none of them matching.
Joe sagged against the pantry shelves, wishing for a break.
A shout in the main room told him he wasn’t about to get one anytime soon.
Joe rushed out to find Aquila on one side of the living room, his parents on the other.
“You can’t just come to the event tonight,” Joe’s mother was saying in her most frightening voice.
Aquila hardly seemed to notice, his wings held out as if to make himself bigger. “And you can’t just lie to the American public and make up ugly stories about people. But it looks like we’re all breaking rules here.”
“Son,” Joe’s father said reasonably. “Tonight’s a private event in honor of a very special man.”
“A man who kidnapped my girlfriend,” Aquila roared.
“You don’t know that,” Natalie snapped. “I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation—”
“Yeah,” Joe said, stepping into the room. “Like the fact that you’re working for him?”
A dense silence met his accusation. Joe closed the pantry door behind him with a click as loud as a gunshot.
“Joseph Fagan, where have you been?” his mother said with almost-convincing indignation. “You have some explaining to do after what you did to Greg in the lobby, not to mention running out on us like that.”
She looked as tall and imposing as ever, the picture of a stern businesswoman scolding her offspring. But because Joe was looking for it, he could see the slight widening of her eyes, the surprised flex of her fingers. The twitching of her cheek.
She was scared.
“You’re working for Hans,” Joe said, ignoring her artificial anger, ignoring Aquila’s very real rage. “Aren’t you? That’s why you’ve been covering up the Vagabonds. Pretending they don’t exist, or that they’re pranksters.” Joe stepped in closer. “Because Hans told you to.”
“Joseph, watch how you speak to your mother,” his father said, but Joe spoke over him.
“You’re both in his pocket, aren’t you? Lying for him? Creating the world he wants to make?” Joe shook his head. “I should have realized it sooner. Your channel isn’t news. It’s propaganda.”
His parents stood as still as statues, both of them staring at their son.
Neither of them denied it.
“Tell me the truth,” Joe said after a dense minute, eyes drilling first into his mother’s, then his father’s faces.
“We don’t know what you’re talking about,” Horatio said in an oddly deadpan voice, dizzyingly unlike his normal, jovial self.
“Where’s Eliza?” Aquila said, wings snapping out.
“We don’t know,” Natalie said, gaze never leaving her son. “Joe, listen to me—”
“No, you listen,” Joe cut in, slicing his hand. “I’m going to go out there and find my friend. Aquila’s going to tonight’s dinner. And tomorrow, when Eliza’s safe and all this is over, you’re going to tell me the goddamn truth for once in your lives or else I’m going to leave and never come back.”
Then, turning to Aquila, Joe jerked his head. “See you tonight.”
Aquila nodded, heading for the balcony.
Ignoring the pain and shock on his parents’ faces, Joe shoved through the main door at the same time that Aquila leapt onto the balcony railing.
“Stop, that’s illegal!” his mother called, but Joe was slamming the door behind him before he could hear Aquila’s response.
Even then, with her son storming out, his mother cared more about keeping up appearances than losing him. They’d said over and over that they wanted to protect him, but that had been a lie. Just another way to keep him silent and controlled. They’d sacrificed everything, stabbed someone, for that damn channel that they’d poured themselves into.
They’d given up their souls.
But he wasn’t about to give up his.
Mentally tracing his way to Tasha’s apartment, Joe took the elevator down, strode through the lobby, and left the security of his family home to plunge into the thick morning traffic, ready to act.
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Chapter Thirty-Nine: Old Accomplices
The burner phone Tasha told Joe would only work once was ringing again. She had it on silent, but she could see the light against her thigh, threatening to give her away. She turned off the screen.
It was hard enough to sneak into Victor Smith’s mansion without that telltale blue light flashing off the window.
Waiting a few moments for the call to go to voicemail, Tasha squinted at the security cameras. They were only for show. Victor had installed them on Scarlett’s balcony in a possessive move that was hardly better than him peeing around the edge. That alone should have made the Instagram star want to stay at her own penthouse apartment across the city instead of Victor’s gaudy mansion, at least in Tasha’s opinion. But Scarlett had dealt with the cameras quickly enough, setting up a daily loop that she changed with the seasons. Right now, the guards would be seeing an empty stone expanse, dusted with snow and ice and frost, rather than the beautiful celebrity standing in a thick, fur-lined robe.
Tasha had taught her that trick.
Launching from the top of the neighboring building, Tasha bounced off the wall, grabbed hold of the balcony railing, and flipped herself in the air. Twist, kick, roll, thump, and then she was straightening, watching Scarlett the way she’d watch a wild dog.
“You always were prone to theatrics,” Scarlett said without turning.
“You told me to come quietly.”
“Yes, but you could have used the back door.” Tilting her head, Scarlett looked at Tasha with a twinkle in her eye. “Most journalists do.”
Tasha had often wondered if this was what it felt like to have an older sister; someone you hated but couldn’t escape or detach from. She and Scarlett had a history that bound them together, kept them in the orbit of each other’s’ lives. Neither of them could pull away.
Only one of them wanted to.
“I’m off-duty,” Tasha said, silencing another call from Joe with one hand and hiding the gesture by leaning against the balcony railing, facing the house. “Quite the place you’ve got here.”
A familiar darkness stole over Scarlett’s expression. “Not mine, as you well know.”
Tasha didn’t react.
“I assume you’ve guessed what I plan to ask.”
“Yeah,” Tasha said, staring at the bed that was probably larger than her whole apartment.
“And what do you say?”
Tasha swallowed. A month ago—hell, maybe even a week ago—she would have said yes. What did a bunch of media executives mean to her? It hadn’t been hard to do the math, especially not when Scarlett had gotten back in touch after years of silence between them, posing as Victor Smith’s girlfriend. No, it hadn’t been challenging to piece together Scarlett’s plan. She’d always been so good at manipulation. It was the reason they’d been able to leave the Circus in the first place; Scarlett’s power over people, Tasha’s ability to hide.
Together, they’d been unstoppable.
But Tasha had never thirsted for power the way Scarlett did. All Tasha wanted was revenge, pure and simple. She wanted Hans’s head on the floor and his blood all around it.
That wasn’t good enough for Scarlett.
“No,” Tasha said at last, the word like a sigh.
Scarlett’s magnetic smile tightened, became ominous, almost frightening. “No?”
Tasha set her jaw against the power she could feel tugging at her mind, drawing her in. “I’m no murderer.”
Scarlett sniffed. “What happened to your backbone?”
“Guess I grew one.”
“They deserve it. We both know that.”
“Maybe.” Tasha shrugged. “They’re still not my target.”
Scarlett’s brow wrinkled in frustration. “But those people are nothing but pawns, Tasha. Ants. They’re not important to us.”
Tasha turned, trying to keep the interminable sadness out of her expression. It wouldn’t do any good here. “Then you’re just like him. Don’t you see, Scarlett? You’re playing his game, perpetuating the cycle. Get rid of Hans like this and you’ll only be replacing one monster with another.”
Like you, Tasha thought, but she didn’t say it.
Scarlett flexed her hands on the rail, as if it was flesh she could dig her nails into. “Is that so bad?”
“Yes,” Tasha said, unable to stop herself from leaning toward the other woman, one of the very few people in the world who knew what she’d been through. What they’d both been through, together. “Listen to me, there will be innocents in that room.”
Scarlett snorted, a disconcertingly unladylike sound from a face like hers. “Innocents who’ve made a career covering up our existence?”
“Because of Hans. Because of him. If you want to take him out, I’ll be there in a second. But this isn’t the way.”
Scarlett’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve developed a conscience since we last spoke.”
Tasha sagged, leaning back against the railing. “And you’ve lost yours.”
“Afraid you’re wrong, Kaleidoscope. I never had one.”
Tasha winced at the call-name, which she hadn’t heard in years. Not since her last run-in with the Circus. But Scarlett’s jab was a good one, a reminder of who Tasha used to be. What had happened to her? What had made her so soft, so doubtful and hesitant to do what was necessary?
Did he have a name?
Tasha shook her head, focusing on Scarlett. It was wise to pay attention when she was around. “What about the Vagabond? The fast one? Isn’t he working for your boyfriend now?”
Scarlett waved an elegant hand in dismissal. “A tool, of course. Actually, it was Victor’s idea to bring him in. He… ignored my objections.”
Not very bright of him, Tasha thought, but aloud she said, “Are you working for Victor too?”
Scarlett’s head snapped around, teeth bared. “What do you think?”
Tasha didn’t move, didn’t even breathe. She stood frozen, watching Scarlett leash her temper again.
Amazing, Tasha thought as Scarlett resumed her glowering at the city, that even with all those followers, no one has realized the truth.
After a few breaths of silence, Tasha risked speaking again. “Do they know the plan?”
“The kid? Of course not. Victor?” Scarlett shrugged. “It was his idea.”
“Sounds like a real charmer.”
“Are you going to try to stop me?”
“Maybe.”
Scarlett turned, eyes bright, and Tasha could feel that coercion working on her, worming into her thoughts and under her skin. She suddenly felt the itching want, the need to do whatever Scarlett asked of her. “Then you better start running.”
It took everything Tasha had to fight it. “Please. Scarlett, think about this. Think of the damage you’ll—”
A buzz from Scarlett’s pocket interrupted Tasha’s plea.
Scarlett whipped out a huge iPhone in a gold case.
Her eyes scanned the text. Widened.
“Shit,” she spat, shoving her phone back into her pocket.
“What is it?”
“A complication. I need to go.”
“Scarlett, wait—”
“It appears you’ve made your choice,” Scarlett said, adjusting her robe. “But I’ll offer you a piece of free advice, since you seem to have forgotten so much.” She leaned in, looming over Tasha the way she always had. Even as kids, Scarlett had towered over short, little Kaleidoscope. “Don’t get in my way.”
Tasha straightened, glaring back, meeting those unsettling eyes. But Scarlett didn’t linger for another staring contest. She swirled through the double doors, leaving them open behind her. A testament to her power, that she didn’t have to worry about a knife in the back.
Her power… and Tasha’s weakness.
Tasha watched her go, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. She wondered what had happened between them. Or rather, if anything had ever bonded them together in the first place? Was it just circumsta
nce that had linked their lives, the shared need for a desperate escape?
Had Scarlett ever cared about her?
Shaking off the thoughts, Tasha leapt onto the balcony railing. No point dwelling on old wounds. Tasha had made her choice years ago. She’d walked away from Scarlett’s ambition already, and obsessively going over the decisions that had led up to that moment was pointless. It didn’t matter how lonely she was, how much she wished things were different. This was how they were. It was time for them both to walk the paths they had chosen.
Besides, there was a larger, more important question to deal with.
What was she going to do now?
Chapter Forty: Indefinitely Detained
The first thing Eliza became aware of was a bone-deep ache everywhere in her body. She felt like she’d been beaten up or run over by a train. Her head hurt, her joints hurt, her eyes hurt.
But she still forced herself to open them.
Blurry. Soft edges and muffled voices, filtering through a strange fog that seemed to have settled over everything. She reached up to rub her eyes…
Or tried to.
Her hands wouldn’t reach her face, wouldn’t move the way they were supposed to. Stuck. Bound together.
That was enough to snap her awake.
Shaking her head to clear out the last of the cobwebs, Eliza blinked until she could see. She was sitting on the floor, her back to a wall. No, not a wall. A bed frame. A massive four-poster bed frame, pillars reaching toward a gilded ceiling.
And her hands were tied to the nearest one.
Eliza twisted around to face the two men arguing under their breaths in the corner. One was the famous Victor Smith, whose house she’d snuck into.
The other was the guy who’d knocked her out on the roof.
He noticed her first, holding up a hand to stop whatever Victor was saying. “Looks like our little mouse woke up.”
Eliza bared her teeth and snarled at him, yanking at the rope and the long spine of wood it was connected to.
Victor turned to her, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not what you think, Miss Mason.”