by Syrie James
“Wrong.” Brian walked up, pushing a rack of costumes. “Nobody stood at the fall play two years ago because the show was lame. You guys were great. Accept it. Move on.” Lowering his voice, he added: “PS: We’ve got a plane to catch in T-minus 144 hours. Put your mental energy into that.”
“Couldn’t you have just said six days?” Erica asked with a grin.
“It’s always ‘T-minus X hours.’ Maintaining appropriate lingo is a crucial factor in any successful operation.”
“Yes sir, Admiral General.” Alec gave Brian a faux salute.
At that moment, Ms. Donnelly stopped by, pointing to an end table that had once furnished the Royal Bedroom. “Alec, would you please bring that table down to the storage area in the stairwell?”
“Sure,” he replied.
Before he could set down the drill, Claire leapt up and cried, “No! Wait, I’ll do it.”
“Thanks, Claire.” The director headed off to another part of the stage.
Claire dashed anxiously to the table in question. Why did she seem so edgy? “Claire. I know you’ve been training, but that’s too heavy for you.”
“I‘ve got it,” she insisted. “Just keep drilling.”
The table bumped and groaned across the stage floor as Claire awkwardly dragged it away. “For God’s sake, Claire. Give it to me.” Alec tried to yank the thing out of her hands.
Claire wouldn’t let go. “Seriously, I can do this.”
“Do you really want to play tug-of-war with me?”
With a reluctant sigh, Claire released her grip.
Alec hoisted the table above his head, making it look difficult in case anyone was watching. “You can open the door for me, if you like.”
Claire stalked ahead of him, her entire body radiating frustration. It was like the clock on their relationship had been turned back two weeks, to when they were barely speaking. What’ve I done to piss her off now?
She held the door open for him to pass through, then raced ahead of him. Several old set pieces were crammed under the stairs, which snaked their way up to the library above. The door closed behind them with a slam.
Alec set down the table in the corner. Claire’s eyes darted in every direction, like she was expecting someone to leap out of the shadows.
“You’re acting weird, Claire. What’s going on?”
“Nothing. I just think I’m on a Red Vines sugar high. And I’m antsy about … you know … next week. I don’t feel nearly ready.”
Before he could comment, there was the sound of footsteps on the stairs above.
Two seconds later, a tall, pale, blonde man appeared, descending the steps until he stopped in front of them. He wore gray slacks and a black leather jacket that looked elegant on his slim frame.
Alec felt the hair rise on the back of his neck. Who the hell was this?
“Claire. Congratulations. I hear the show was a success.”
“How do you know?” Claire shot back, an edge in her voice.
“Celeste caught last night’s performance,” he answered, his smile charming.
Alec tensed at that, angry with himself. Once again, a member of the Fallen had been here, watching them, yet he hadn’t noticed. At the same time, his mind was buzzing. How did Claire and Celeste know this guy? Then he put two and two together.
“Malcolm.” Alec tried to suppress the fury in his voice as he stepped in front of Claire protectively.
“You must be Alec. How nice, after all these years, to finally meet you in the flesh.”
“What are you doing here?” Alec asked.
“I came to see you, actually.” Malcolm brushed a speck of lint from his lapel, his voice as smooth as glass. “Our intel suggested this was the most secluded way to slip in backstage and find you. How convenient for us both that we can meet in such a private space.”
“Yes, very convenient,” Alec said suspiciously.
“Until recently,” Malcolm continued, his ice-blue eyes meeting Alec’s, “it wasn’t me who was going to come this way for you. It was my associates.”
“Tweedledumb and Tweedledee, you mean?” Alec’s lips pressed together tightly.
Malcolm chuckled. “After what you did to them, you can’t really blame them. You three have a history, it seems. They planned to kill you this evening. Or at least, to try.”
“Oh my God,” Claire said, her hand going to her mouth.
Malcolm briefly glanced her way, then trained his eyes on Alec again. “When I learned of their intention, I was tempted to allow them to proceed. After all, you destroyed my factory.”
“That was an accident. It was self-defense.”
“Be that as it may, you were trespassing on private property, looking into something that is not your concern. You are the thorn in my side, Alec. Were you to be eliminated, I would be better off in so many ways.” Malcolm let out a sigh. “Every way but one, that is.”
“Meaning … ?”
“Were we to succeed in taking you out, the Grigori would surely get wind of it. And, even though you are a runaway, they would not take kindly to it.”
Alec wasn’t sure he liked where this was going.
“Furthermore, eliminating you might call attention to the … operation I’ve been running lately,” Malcolm went on, “of which I doubt they would approve. I don’t want the Grigori looking over my shoulder. I have been at peace with your kind for a great many years, and I’d hate to see that end.”
“I never thought of it as peace,” Alec replied tightly. “More like a stalemate.”
Claire let out a breath but said nothing, her eyes still anxious.
Malcolm pressed on. “You’ve proven to be a formidable opponent. But I think we’ve both done enough damage to each other’s lives at this point. So let’s make a deal, shall we?”
“What kind of deal?”
“You tell no one about my recent … activities, and I’ll dismantle the operation you found so troubling. In exchange, I won’t tell the Grigori where you are. And I’ll ensure that Rico and Javed forgive and forget. Sound fair to you?”
Alec’s eyes narrowed. Was he really going to get off so easy? “You’ll put an end to the blood trafficking?”
“I will. It was just an experiment anyway, and it’s becoming a problem—giving my lieutenants more power than they are equipped to handle. I’ve decided I’d rather keep my blood in my own veins.”
Alec wasn’t sure he believed Malcolm. It was possible that he’d start up another operation in a new location, and all this was just to throw Alec off the scent. On the other hand, it’d be a relief to get Malcolm’s goons off his back. And he couldn’t risk Malcolm’s giving him up to the Elders. But he wanted more. “If I accept your offer, will you stop hounding Claire to join the Fallen?”
Claire looked down. Alec sensed that she wanted to say something but was censoring herself.
Malcolm’s lips twitched. “If you and I can come to terms, I think I can agree to suspend any further such hounding,” he answered smoothly.
“All right then, I agree,” Alec said, “but I can’t promise to look the other way forever. Depending on what bullshit you pull in future, there may come a time when our agreement has to come to an end.”
From the smile that widened across his face, it seemed as if Malcolm had been expecting that answer. “Understood.” After a moment, he added, “With how hard you’ve fought to get away from your duties, you really are a fascinating creature, Alec. Once a Watcher, always a Watcher, I suppose.”
“Looks like. So, that’s it?”
Malcolm extended his hand. “For now.” They shook hands, then Malcolm gave a half bow. “Good night to the both of you.” Turning, he disappeared up the stairs with a burst of superhuman speed.
Malcolm’s absence appeared to pop a cork from Claire. “Thank God,” she exhale
d.
Alec drew her into his arms. “You sensed he was coming, didn’t you? That’s why you’ve been acting so weird all evening?”
She nodded silently against his chest.
They stood there for a long moment, embracing. Alec felt as if a great weight had been lifted. Rico and Javed were off his back. Zachariah still had no idea who Alec was. And Malcolm was going to leave him and Claire be.
“You know what’s the strangest thing about all this?” Alec asked.
“What?”
“Even though I know better, I actually kind of like him.”
Claire stifled a laugh and pressed her head to his chest. “I know what you mean.”
thirty-seven
Claire twisted her gloved hands in her lap, willing herself to stay calm as she took in her surroundings.
The L Hotel in Taipei was even more eclectic in person than in the mind-walk she’d shared with Helena. Heels clacked on the polished-stone floor, echoing off the wood-paneled walls and ultramodern ceiling, which dazzled with recessed lighting and a suspended multicolored neon sculpture. Three huge, round, leather benches, the size of beds, were scattered across the expansive space. Claire and Alec were seated on one of them, in full view of the glass front doors and the wall of windows that looked out onto the street.
Behind them, a large television hung on the wall, silently playing a documentary about Taiwanese temples. When she’d described this moment in her supposed “vision” to Alec, Claire had claimed there’d been a TV showing the news. She was just grateful there was a TV and hoped he wouldn’t notice the discrepancy.
“You’re sure this is the bench you saw me sitting on in your vision?” Alec asked.
“Yeah.” Claire was having a hard time keeping track of all the lies she’d had to tell lately to make sure her deal with Malcolm remained a secret. In fact, she’d never seen Alec sitting on this or any other bench. Her glimpse into this future moment when she’d communed with Helena hadn’t depicted Claire, Alec, or any of their friends at all.
Claire’s pulse beat a rapid staccato as her thoughts darted back to that other tense moment, over a week ago, when Malcolm had shown up in the theater stairwell. She’d almost had a heart attack, worried that Malcolm would say something to blow her cover or Alec would guess at the bargain she’d made. Thankfully, Malcolm didn’t, Alec had no idea, and now they were finally in position to use the information Malcolm had given her to save her father.
Claire swallowed hard, trying not to think about what she’d had to give in exchange. There hadn’t been any other way, she reminded herself. They were here. Their plan was in place. Everyone knew their parts. They’d been over it too many times to count. They were ready to go.
And in five minutes, her father was going to arrive.
“Oh, Neil, you’re too good to me!” Erica’s voice rang out.
Claire glanced across the lobby. Erica was sitting beside Neil on the round bench closest to the busy front desk, cradling a dozen red roses and making a big performance out of smelling each one. She and Neil were dressed in designer jeans and jackets and look liked a rich American couple.
“Aren’t they starting a little early?” Alec whispered to Claire.
“Erica insisted she wanted time to get into character,” Claire explained.
Their phones vibrated simultaneously. It was a text from Brian to everyone:
In position, over
Alec typed back:
Only say over if you’re on a radio :-P
Brian’s reply came with lightning speed:
Focus on the mission, not my lingo
Claire responded:
How’s my mom?
Brian replied:
Amazingly flexible, willing to take one for the team
Another text followed, this time from Helena:
Texting is laborious.
We should have connected our minds as I suggested
There was no way Claire was letting her grandmother into her head at the moment. She couldn’t risk Helena’s seeing the secrets Claire was concealing. She fired back:
No way. You already have enough to do
Helena had two primary jobs. First: take out the security cameras along their intended route, which involved cutting the relevant wires at the electrical circuit box in a lower-level corridor. Second: wait in their getaway van in the hotel’s parking garage, where she could use her abilities to try to track their futures, and (hopefully) warn them of potential problems or dangers.
Two minutes ticked by. Helena wrote back:
Phase 1 complete. Heading to van now.
“Let’s hope it takes as long to get a security technician out here as it does back home,” Alec commented under his breath.
“And that we don’t have to use any areas of the hotel we didn’t black out,” Claire added.
“I have faith in the plan.” Alec shot her a small smile.
Claire checked her watch. One minute to go. Her pulse pounded in earnest now as she and Alec focused their attention on the front driveway, visible through the lobby’s plate-glass windows and doors.
A limousine pulled up to the curb, its doors swung open, and two people stepped out and marched into the lobby: a tan, athletic man, and a shorter, ebony-skinned woman. They both wore dark suits, and the woman wore gloves.
Claire grabbed Alec’s hand and squeezed it. “Lobby guards,” she whispered. She recognized them from her mind-walk with Helena. As anticipated, they cautiously scanned the area, then moved aside.
Claire’s eyes were riveted to the limo outside.
The bald man from her earlier vision stepped out from the backseat. Next came a guy sporting a bushy beard. The same bodyguards she’d seen in Vienna.
“Here we go,” Claire whispered.
The two men waited by the rear door to the vehicle, then helped out a third man.
Claire caught her breath. There he is.
My father.
Now it was Alec squeezing her hand in silent acknowledgment as they watched the threesome make its way into the lobby, the bodyguards flanking Tom. He wore a navy-blue suit and tie. His brown hair was longish and shaggy. She noted the salt-and-pepper scruffiness on his cheeks and dark circles under his eyes as he passed by, staring at the floor, his eyes distant and glassy.
Two very different feelings washed over Claire. Excitement that she was finally, actually, in the same physical space as her dad. And heartbreak. Because even though her dad been cleaned up for his court appearance, he still looked like a prisoner. She had to suppress a strong instinct to bolt up after him then and there. Stick to the plan, she reminded herself. Pray that it works.
Alec gave Claire’s hand another reassuring squeeze. Then he quickly closed the text thread with:
They’re here. Good luck, everyone
The bodyguards and her dad crossed the lobby and made directly for the wide bank of elevators beyond. The lobby guards sat down on the empty bench not far from where Erica and Neil were seated. Bingo. Everyone was in place.
Claire and Alec stood and strode toward the elevators. Claire, straining to appear casual, felt like every slap of her Chucks on the floor squeaked so loudly that everyone would turn and look. But no one was even glancing at her.
No one except Erica, that is. Claire caught Erica’s eye, intercepting a silent look that said, Go girl. We’ve got this.
Claire and Alec paused a few feet behind her dad and the bodyguards, who were waiting for an elevator. It was so strange to be standing so close to her own father and not be able to touch or even talk to him. Yet.
Tapping his foot impatiently, the bald bodyguard watched the LED counter as it progressed downward from ten to one. Finally, the “up” light gleamed purple, mirror-polished doors slid open, and several people stepped out. The guards ushered Tom into the waiting, empty car
. Claire and Alec immediately followed.
Claire could hardly believe it. Her dad was standing barely a foot away, his hands clasped in front him, staring straight ahead. The space-age-style mirrors and floor-to-ceiling lights on every wall gave her a glimpse of him from every angle imaginable. She wished she could pause the moment, take the time to drink in the sight of her father. In the flesh.
But there was no time. She turned to face forward.
The bearded guy pressed the button for the twelfth floor. The doors closed and they started going up.
Alec hit the button for the fourteenth floor, then turned back to face the group. With a quick glance at Claire, who gave him a nod, Alec parted his hands, telekinetically ejecting both men’s earbuds from their ears.
“Hey!” shouted Baldy, reaching up to figure out what had just happened.
Claire turned to face the two men, and said quietly, “Calm down.” She’d never successfully used her mind-control talent on more than one person at a time, but this was a risk they’d needed to take.
“There’s been a change of plan,” Claire continued, working hard to balance her focus between the two guys as she spoke. “This man is sick and needs medical attention. You’ve been relieved of your duties. Return to the room and await further instructions. We can take him from here.”
Dead silence followed. Tom stood like a zombie, as if totally unaware of what she’d said or what was happening. Claire’s chest was tight from trying to hold on to the bodyguards’ minds as she repeated the phrases in her head: Return to the room. Await further instructions. We can take him from here.
The two bodyguards stared at her quizzically. Beardy scratched his chin. “Who are you exactly?”
Damn it. These guys were fighting her. “You’re not cleared to know that,” she replied firmly, silently repeating: Do what I say and don’t argue. Do what I say and don’t argue.
To her relief, she finally felt her mental tentacles grab hold of both men. Their eyes glazed over, and they nodded simultaneously. “Yes, ma’am.”
Claire let out a breath, still maintaining her concentration. The counter on the digital display showed that they’d just passed the seventh floor. Almost there.