Descendants Series

by Melissa Wright

  Brendan’s mouth tightened, but he bent his head in acquiescence.

  As the girls walked through the door, his eyes narrowed at my silent laughter. I shook my head. “I take it she’s figured out she’s useful to you.”

  “No thanks to you, I’m sure,” he muttered.

  I scratched my stomach. “Fetch my tea, Brendan. I’ll be in the bath.” His elbow caught me in the ribcage as we crossed the threshold and I couldn’t help but laugh.

  Emily glanced over her shoulder at the noise, and our eyes stayed locked as she climbed the last few stairs on Brianna’s arm. I sighed. It was probably the last time I’d see that gold silk jacket.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Healing

  The Division had set up a suite of rooms for me at three of their most frequented houses. This one however, was the smallest and safest, and as such not normally filled with eight of their top men. Brendan had offered me a better room, but I’d chosen an empty one close to Brianna and Emily.

  Not that it was lacking. A king-size bed lay centered among a space twice the size of our last hotel room, all cream and black, clean and classic. The walls were bare aside from a small metal sculpture between the walk-in closet and the private bath. I kicked off my shoes at the end of the bed and walked over plush cream carpet to the bathroom, which could be called nothing but opulent. No doubt the stone was imported and hand-carved, glass surrounds custom and one of a kind. I shook my head and tossed my dirty shirt onto the counter.

  As I reached for the faucet, I noticed the skin of my forearm appeared too smooth. It had, only a short time ago, still bore the raised pink lines of a jagged half-healed cut. But now, without sleep, the wound was all but gone. I squinted against the dim mood lighting in the shower room, and drew the arm closer. And then I winced, because my shoulder had apparently not had time to heal. I rubbed a hand over my face and turned the shower on full and hot before dropping both arms to tilt my head back and just stand there in the spray.

  It must have been an hour later when I finally lay down. I had come out of the shower to find sandwiches and hot tea waiting on the bureau, as well as a clean set of clothes. I had pulled the jeans on while I ate, and then fell into bed, shirtless and sock-footed, to at last get the sleep I needed for my shoulder to heal.

  So I was feeling better by the time movement in my room woke me. I didn’t have to open my eyes to know it was Emily.

  I lay on top of a satin duvet, not having bothered with removing the mass of pillows at the head of the bed, face down with one arm slung over the side. She leaned over, holding her breath as she scrutinized the results of her handiwork on my arm. But the wounds would be undetectable by now.

  “You shouldn’t sneak up on people while they’re sleeping,” I said, snatching her wrist as she gasped and tried to jerk back from me.

  She froze, free hand pressed to her heaving chest, and stared at me, wide-eyed. I pulled her closer. “What are you doing, Emily?”

  She swallowed. “I was just… Sorry, I’ll go.”

  I dragged her arm with me as I rolled to my back, forcing her to either perch awkwardly on the edge of the bed, or climb over me and stay. She chose the latter, carefully stepping clear of me to sit cross-legged by my hip.

  “Where’s Brianna?” I asked.

  “Asleep.”

  “And you weren’t tired?”

  Emily bit her lip. “I can’t really sleep.” She glanced down at my bare torso, then quickly away, scanning the room for anything else to look at.

  I released her arm. And then, recalling what Brianna had said at their reunion, asked, “You don’t sleep much?”

  “Hardly ever,” she said, eyes coming back to me as I lay so similarly to the way I had in the hotel when she’d settled into my chest and slept through the night. “I’ve never been able to, not for more than an hour or so at a time.”

  Surely that had nothing to do with her mother training her to keep watch over her sister, telling her someone was after her, that she had to keep her safe.

  But all that was true, wasn’t it?

  “How is she?” I asked.

  The corner of her mouth raised in a half-smile. “Brianna’s fine. She’s always fine.” Emily twisted her hands together. “I just feel better seeing her, knowing she’s safe.”

  “Emily,” I said, “will anyone be looking for you?”

  “You mean like our foster parents? No, no, I don’t think we’ll be missed. He’ll get pretty worked up about his car, but he won’t risk calling the law or losing his credibility with the system.” She rubbed a hand absently up her arm. “Besides, if he even reports it to the agency, we’ll be eighteen next week. It’s not like they can do anything about it then.”

  “Was it only him?”

  “Yeah. His wife ran off a while back, but he never admitted it to anyone. Thought they’d take us, I guess. It was better that way anyhow. Brianna couldn’t stand to watch him hurt her.”

  I bit down hard to keep from speaking. It was none of my business. None of my business.

  Emily realized what she’d said. “He never touched us,” she promised. “I wouldn’t have let him. But he wasn’t a good man.” She pressed her lips together. “It was just that we couldn’t risk leaving, being separated. Not again. He stayed clear of Brianna, and I endured his words. So we could be together.” She shrugged. “It didn’t seem like that long to suffer.”

  He was the least of her troubles now, and it was obvious she was done talking about it, so I moved on. “What about school?”

  She huffed out a breath akin to a laugh. “No, we tested out of school a long time ago. It wasn’t all nunchakus and divinations. I can give you the square root of pi.” She watched me for a moment, expression still.

  I gave her a small smile. “We concentrated mostly on physics. And proper use of a screwdriver.”

  Her lips split into a grin, and I thought it was the first genuine happiness I’d seen from her. The idea tightened my chest a bit and I found myself making a promise there was no guarantee I could keep. A promise I had no right to make. “We’ll figure it out, Emily. We’ll take care of Morgan and Brianna will be safe. Even if I have to do it myself, she will be protected.”

  She was silent for a moment, considering my words. And then she whispered, “Thank you. Thank you for caring what happens to her.”

  I knew what she meant. Protecting Brianna could cost my people more than anything we’d lost in the past. But neither of us mentioned the rest of the prophecy, the fact that the fate of the human world hung in peril, or that the remainder of my kind could disappear forever. I simply pulled her into my arms and pressed my lips gently to the top of her head where it rested over my chest.

  Even if I had to do it myself. Brianna would be safe.

  The idea seemed to cost me something now, with her sister asleep in my arms, but it was looking to be the only way to keep Brianna from both sides of a war.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Luck

  When a knock sounded at the door later, we were both asleep. Emily jolted, but I squeezed her against me. “Yes?”

  “We’ll be serving dinner in half an hour, Mr. Archer.”

  “Fine.” His footsteps didn’t recede. “Thank you, Wesley.”

  “Sir…” He hesitated. “The girl, Miss Drake.” He stopped again, realizing there were two Drake girls now. “Emily, sir…”

  Emily’s back stopped rising and falling beneath my hand and I had to bite back a smile. “Yes?”

  “She’s not in her room, sir. Should I report it to Brendan?”

  I could hear the dread in his voice. No one wanted to give Brendan bad news. “No, Wesley, she’s fine. I’ll see that she makes it to dinner.”

  “Thank you, sir. Thank you.”

  Wesley was skinny, awkward, and terrified of displeasing anyone in the Division. He was also trustworthy, efficient, and talented, but he’d been only fourteen when Morgan had first “reprimanded” him for a few minor slipups while
working for Council. It had stuck with him, even after Brendan had taken him in. But Morgan had that effect on people.

  Emily started breathing again. She pushed herself to sitting and I resisted the urge to drag her back, close my eyes, and fall asleep once more. I was glad my eyes were open when I saw her mortified expression.

  I rose to my elbows. “Do you want to skip dinner?”

  That only made it worse. Her cheeks reddened.

  “All right, then. Why don’t you sneak off to your sister’s room and I’ll meet you down there. I’m sure she’s just about got the run of the place by now.”

  She moved to climb over me and I sat the rest of the way up, grasping her arm to stop her. We were face to face, inches apart when I whispered my warning. “Remember what I said, Emily. Stay with Brianna. I don’t want you alone with any of them.”

  Slightly short of breath, she asked, “Even Brendan?”

  Especially Brendan, I thought, but merely nodded.

  I released my grip and swung my legs to the floor, sitting on the edge of the bed to watch her go. When the door clicked quietly shut behind her, I finally stretched my shoulder, grateful it had fully healed. It was the most I’d slept since Council had located Brianna.

  I probably would have relaxed a few more minutes, but dinner would be set shortly, and I had some catching up to do. I slipped on my shoes and the button-up shirt that had been left out for me, not at all surprised to find it tailored to fit, before heading down to find Brendan. He would have been expecting me hours ago.

  When I made it to the end of the hall, I was intercepted by an attractive brunette in her early twenties. “Oh, Mr. Archer, Mr. Samuels will want to see you.”

  “That’s where I was headed,” I explained. “Is Brendan in his office?”

  “Yes,” she said, “Mr. Samuels is in the front office suite, I’ll take you there.”

  I smiled at her curt reminder of propriety, but it was received by the back of her head as she’d promptly spun to deliver me to the Mr. Samuels in question. She was dressed in a fitted navy jacket that had to have been custom-made, matching skirt falling exactly one inch above the knee. Her heels must have been padded to not echo off the wood floor, and only the swish of fabric accompanied us on our way, because she obviously had nothing to say to the likes of me.

  We crossed through two beige rooms, and one more like creamed coffee, before arriving at Brendan’s office. It was all mahogany and glass.

  “Aern,” he said, ignoring the brunette as she soundlessly stepped aside and backed from the room. “What kept you?”

  If he knew, his face didn’t betray it. “Catching up on some rest,” I said, stretching my shoulder again for emphasis.

  He walked around the desk to stand close, unbuttoning and rolling the cuffs of his shirt as he did so. “And I’m glad you did. Walk with me, will you?”

  As we entered the hall, I raised a brow at him.

  He shrugged. “I’m sure it’s secure. It’s just that lately I’ve been having trouble keeping things from our Brianna.”

  I tilted my head forward, not liking where this was going.

  “No, no, I’m certain it’s nothing,” he said after seeing my response. “Maybe she isn’t even aware of what’s happening. It just seems like she’s familiar with far too much.” He rubbed a hand absently over his chest as we rounded the corner. “Things have been excitable around here to say the least. Probably one of the younger ones, they are so worked up about the actual prophecy girl being here. Likely one of them mentioned something they’d overheard from a private meeting.”

  I glanced over at him. “Prophecy girl?”

  He smirked. “Yeah, that’s what they’re calling her. She’s like a pop star around here.”

  “I’ve noticed I’m not getting the same reception,” I said.

  Brendan didn’t meet my gaze. “They feel betrayed. Now that she’s here, it’s different. It’s like you’re refusing her, like you’re refusing the prophecy.”

  “It isn’t my prophecy.”

  “And so you’ll leave her to Morgan?”

  His words were ice and I stopped to stare at him. “Then you’ve turned on me as well.”

  “No,” he said, letting out a deep breath. “No, Aern. It’s… it’s only that things have changed now. This is building to something we can’t control. If we don’t strike now—”

  I cut him off, throwing his own words back at him. “I know the stakes, brother.”

  He held up a hand in forfeit. “You’re right. We’ve had this argument enough. Come; let’s update you on what you’ve missed.”

  I followed Brendan to a balcony overlooking several manicured acres that fell into dense woods. It was still cool, but he left the double doors open behind us, and if I hadn’t known better, I’d have said we were alone. But there would be armed guards throughout the house, and though I couldn’t spot them from this vantage point, I was certain the trees were crowded with even heavier security.

  When Brendan leaned against the thick wood rail, I asked, “What have they learned?”

  “They made the connection right away, traced the car back to their foster parents. The woman, she’s safe as of this evening. As luck would have it, she’d changed her name, cut all ties to her previous life. They may track her down one day, but we’ll keep an eye on things. The foster father, however, was not so fortunate. Morgan’s men took him in the same day. Word is they botched their chance to get information from him, roughed him up a bit more than they should have.”

  I winced. When Morgan was angry, he tended to overdo the sway, let a little too much of his rage through.

  Brendan nodded. “We had a team extract him, but it doesn’t look good.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Logan dropped him at County General, convinced him he’d been cleaning gutters when he’d fallen from the second-story roof and tumbled through the balcony railing before landing face first on the concrete drive. That should just about cover his injuries with the doctors, excepting the screw holes through his wrists.”

  I loosened my grip on the railing and turned to lean against it, watching the cream-colored curtains swim on the breeze.

  “The house was clean,” Brendan continued. “It had to have been dumb luck that they found you again.”

  “You’re giving luck a lot of credit, Brendan.”

  He stared out over the lawn. “Maybe not luck so much. Maybe it’s that the bastard turned a hundred men to find you.”

  Just then, one of the sheer curtains flipped in the wind and I caught sight of Emily across the expanse that was the dining hall. She held my eyes for one brief moment before a ribbon of beige fell between us.

  Brendan looked over his shoulder, and I wondered if I’d given some clue to their arrival.

  A trim blonde appeared a moment later, announcing his guests. “Thank you, Ellin,” he said, distractedly scratching his jaw.

  We pushed off the railing at the same time, walking in as Ellin discreetly closed the balcony doors behind us, and found Brianna and Emily standing beside a table set for fifteen. Brianna’s eyes were trained on Brendan.

  “You’re not making a show of her,” she said, somewhere between a demand and a question. It was clear the idea had her horrified.

  “They’re here for Aern, Brianna, not Emily.” His gazed moved to Emily as he spoke. “And you do look lovely this evening, Miss Drake.”

  I had the distinct feeling it was meant as a spur for Brianna, but Emily ran a tense hand over the fabric of her blouse. I couldn’t tell if she was uncomfortable with Brendan’s attention, or having been outfitted in clothes that probably cost more than the last car she’d stolen.

  Several key members of the Division came through the west door then, and the over-large room suddenly felt too full. Brendan took a moment to quickly present each of them to Emily, making a point not to allow them enough time in between introductions for more than a brief greeting.

  The rest of the party f
iltered in and were fleetingly acknowledged before Brendan said, “Shall we?” and the group dispersed to find their seats. The head of the long table was left open for Brendan, who pulled out the chair to his left for Brianna. Emily watched the gesture with unveiled disapproval, and then ignored the chair that one of the staffers drew out for her to sit on Brianna’s other side.

  I was distracted from the scene by a light touch on my forearm, Ellin indicating the chair opposite Brendan as mine. I might have chosen otherwise, but after a small shuffle to reorder the arrangement Emily had wrecked, it was the last open seat.

  Three low centerpieces were flanked by a myriad of fresh-baked rolls, each woven into intricate braids or bearing the shape of some sort of flower. When drinks were poured, tentative conversations started around the table, talk of pleasant weather and the new wing on one of the downtown buildings. We were served soups and salads that bore little resemblance to either, and I wondered if they realized this neither honored nor impressed their “prophecy girl.” When the salad was removed and a plate of some small not-quite-beige thing that could only be fish was set in front of me, I glanced at the other end of the table.

  Brendan, uncharacteristically casual with his shirt sleeves still rolled halfway up his forearms, alternated between small talk and an insincere smile, and surreptitious glances at the girl beside him. Emily picked at what appeared to be leaves and berries sprouting from her entrée, and then sat her fork gently on the side of her plate.

  By the time dinner was cleared, conversation had picked up and the guests were getting braver with their topic choices.

  “We never imaged you had a sister, Brianna. So unexpected,” Kara was saying from the center of the table opposite them. She was the only woman of the Division’s eight, and the first to leave Council to join Brendan. I didn’t trust her at all.

  Brianna made polite small talk, but I was fairly certain she felt the same way.

  It had indeed been a surprise to all of us that the heart of the prophecy not only had a sister, but a twin. What was more surprising, however, was that none of their records reflected that detail. There were several theories, the most popular being that the girls’ mother had orchestrated the cover-up from the beginning. Knowing what I knew now, I had no doubt.