“Everything is well, Wes,” Aern promised. “It’s only that we wanted you here for your expertise.”
He’d apparently been catching up on his rest as Aern had suggested, because instead of his usual Council-appropriate attire, he was sporting sleep-tousled hair, worn-out jeans, and a faded tee shirt that displayed a similarly-coiffed Muppet playing guitar.
At his bewildered expression, Brianna motioned toward a chair. “Aern explained to me what you saw pass between me and the shadow.” He slid into the seat she’d indicated, face reddening. “We thought you might be able to help us,” she began. “To use your talent to explore Aern’s power, to learn as much as we can about how it works and what this shadow is planning.”
Wesley’s expression cleared. “Of course. Anything you need.”
Emily pulled up a chair beside him. “And the bond. We want to understand why Aern doesn’t take anything from me, but this shadow can somehow pull power from Brianna.”
“It isn’t like your bond at all,” Wesley said, glancing between Emily and Brianna. “He’s stealing it from her, like a leech.”
The corner of Emily’s mouth tightened, something very near a self-righteous smirk. “Right,” she said. “Like that.”
At her encouragement, Wesley added, “Actually, Aern doesn’t need to take anything from you personally, because the connection is supplying it. Like a generator. It kind of converts into energy.”
Emily’s mouth dropped open, all trace of smugness vanished. But apparently Aern couldn’t enjoy it, because he was too distracted himself. “Wait, what?”
“Yeah,” Wesley said. “I didn’t feel it at first, because it’s not like the other powers. You’re not pushing it at anyone, not throwing the pulse outward. But I’ve been thinking about this a lot, and when you came back from the yard, and you were all…”—he gestured helplessly toward Aern’s clean skin, shrugged—“fixed, well, then I started to look closer, to search your own energy, and it made sense.”
The room was once again frozen in stunned silence, this time staring at the young, red-headed savant, who at the moment appeared to belong more in a garage band than a clandestine organization fighting to restore the fate of the world.
“Wes,” Brianna whispered after a moment, “are you saying Emily and Aern are creating energy?”
“Not from nothing. It’s already…” His hands went up, swirling through the air in another helpless gesture. “Around.”
“So instead of sending the pulses out,” Logan said, “they’re drawing this somehow in and converting it to energy?”
Wesley nodded. “Or using it. Sometimes it runs back through them, like it’s strengthening their connections.” He glanced at Emily, suddenly sheepish at admitting he’d studied her links. She didn’t notice, simply barked out a laugh and threw her arms around him in a too-brisk hug. Emily was not generally known around the Council properties as a hugger.
When she released her grip, Aern simply patted the wide-eyed boy on the shoulder. “Thank you, Wes. I can’t tell you how much help you’ve been.”
It was coming together, the shadow’s ability to draw from Brianna, the way Wesley had seen it reach out, searching. The bond had given Aern and Emily an advantage, creating power where the shadow had apparently resorted to stealing it.
Aern glanced absently at Logan as he voiced his concern to the room. “The question remains, why hasn’t Brianna created a bond?” Brianna was certain he’d simply been thinking aloud, but she could see in his reaction that Aern had felt something from Logan. His lifelong friend hadn’t moved, there was no outward sign of pain or agitation in his body or expression, but clearly Aern could feel the emotion, and it was like a punch in the gut. Logan hadn’t been able to protect her, couldn’t save her from the threat, and now this shadow was trying to bind her to him. He must have been a wreck.
Aern ran a palm over his chest, and Brianna glanced up at Logan, taking his hand in hers. “Maybe I can’t create a bond. Maybe he’s wrong.”
Wesley held up a finger hesitantly. When it garnered everyone’s attention, he drew it back, as if he wanted to change his mind. “Actually,” he said, “I’d need to be closer to be sure, but I think there already is…”—his gaze swept the audience, stopping on Brianna—“some sort of link there.”
Brianna felt sick, her hand dropping from Logan’s to press against her stomach.
Wesley leaned forward as if he might reach out to her, but his own hands remained in his lap, twining together anxiously. “Not a bond,” he assured her. “Nothing so strong.”
“What, Wes?” Aern said. “What kind of connection?”
“It’s just, I think that’s how he’s doing it,” Wesley said. He shrugged. “I think somehow he’s got a line to her, figured out how to sink his claws in and send her these messages.”
“So it’s different from what I’m doing?” Aern asked.
Wesley nodded. “I can’t feel exactly how, but this isn’t sway. The sway doesn’t work on Brianna”—he glanced up—“or Emily. This is something else. Some ability to draw from her, but it doesn’t feel like your bond. Not at all.” He looked back at Brianna, his words earnest. “Their bond is pure. It’s secure, and it’s keeping them safe by giving them energy. It’s not a bond, Brianna. This thing he’s doing is one-sided, parasitic. And it’s ugly.”
Brianna had known she was in danger. It was why she’d not explained to them until now the shadow’s desire to create a bond. But if he could do so much damage with a partial connection, there was no way Brianna could risk allowing it go further.
The question was, how could she stop him?
Chapter Twenty-seven
Aern
The disagreements had ended the moment Wesley had revealed the extent of the shadow’s draw on Brianna, but they’d still spent the better part of an hour reexamining every angle and trying to decipher what other powers he might hold. Aern could see that it was weighing on Brianna, so he’d sent one of the messengers down for refreshments and some food. They’d taken seats around a small table in front of the desk, Logan leaning on the arm of Brianna’s chair and Emily pacing behind Aern while Wesley studied his power, attempting to feel out how it worked in comparison to his brief encounter with the shadow.
A knock on the door preceded their delivery, and Aern was surprised to see Ava had brought the tray in herself. She was wearing a charcoal suit, hair pulled back in a precise bun as she leaned over to place the tray on the low table between them. Her legs were bare below the knee, long and lean with the help of a pair of spiked heels, and Wesley’s gaze fell to the floor. Aern let the boy rest, releasing the energy he’d been sending out, and glanced at Brianna to be sure she intended to take a respite as well. Her mouth was twisted into a grimace, vacant stare aimed toward the tray where Ava poured steaming water into several stark white teacups.
She murmured, “Acacius,” clearly lost in thought, and Ava fumbled the pot, hissing as boiling water caught the edge of her hand. Ava wasn’t a soldier, so she’d not been included when Brianna had given the Council and Division men the connections that allowed them to heal faster. The sound of pain brought Brianna out of her stupor though, and she reached forward to brush a hand over Ava’s and give her that gift.
In that instant, three things happened simultaneously.
Ava’s scalded hand flinched back, not in fear, but to flip over and aim palms-out with the other at Brianna. Logan, seeing something in the woman’s gaze before she’d even reacted, launched himself from the arm of the chair, crashing shoulder-first into Ava’s chest and throwing them both through the low table, which shot water, ceramic, and splintered wood onto the lot of them. Wesley, his power letting him feel the strike Ava had released and giving him the advantage of certainty, came to his feet yelling, “Shadow!”
One second they were having tea and the next the room was chaos. Fire erupted from the woman beneath Logan, searing his shirt, the floor, and the fabric of the chairs before the rest of them
had a chance to even move. Brianna sat staring, in shock, and Aern rushed to her, shoving her chair back and away from the melee of the floor. The wood beneath them shook, and Logan was hurled off the woman’s form, landing solidly against the far wall as she leapt to her feet. Wesley jumped in front of her and she thrust a hand out, catching him in the chest with a crunch of bone, knocking him back and clear of the circle of chairs. Emily was suddenly behind her, gripping the woman’s head with both hands, and Aern dove over rubble that was seconds ago the table to catch their attacker’s midsection and twist her down once more.
She was too strong. With one hand, she wrenched Emily free, tossing her back as if she were nothing and driving a pulse into Aern that blasted him backward into the wood-plank floor. Brianna was on her feet, hands raised, hair lifting as the air around her moved for her first strike, but the shadow was faster, closing the distance to grab Brianna around the neck before any of them could react. Aern could feel Brianna pushing against her, but he knew it wasn’t enough. He knew because Brianna was scared. Not of the woman, not of the idea that she might be close to death. She was scared that this was it. That she’d failed to save them.
Aern struggled to his feet, the crushing pain in his chest knitting back together as he moved, and the air changed around them again. It wasn’t the same as Brianna’s power, not a tingle over his skin like Emily or the other shadows. This was different. It was hard to breathe, every point around him suddenly thick and heavy. The smallest movements were a burden, and it was affecting each of them, their reactions hindered, delayed as if time had slowed. Emily gasped, crawling to her knees beside him, and both their gazes went to Logan, who’d just appeared behind Brianna, tattered shirt falling away from his chest and shoulder to reveal a large, ugly burn.
There was a glow within his eyes, the amber a furious gold that Aern had never seen. His chin was lowered, the muscles of his neck and shoulders straining against the effort of his attack. He was not scared, not even for Brianna. Because he knew he was going to save her, no matter what it took. There was a muted cracking sound, followed by a string of loud pops, and the fire suppression system gave way to the pressure. The blink of a pair of small red lights followed, the alarm system being tripped, and Aern shoved Emily to her feet and toward the others.
She didn’t hesitate, locking her arms around the woman’s neck as Logan forced the pressure further, causing Aern’s head to throb with each pulse of his heart. Finally standing, he fought to reach them, watching as Emily wrapped her feet about the woman’s waist, tethering herself against her defenses. Overcome, the shadow’s hold on Brianna’s neck loosened, and Logan caught Brianna at the waist, pushing her aside to grip her attacker with his own hands. There was another shift, and the moment Logan touched the shadow, Aern felt light, suddenly free to move and breathe. He launched himself too hard into them and there was a roar as their powers collided. A strange muffled snapping came from within the woman as Logan’s power broke her, and Emily screamed, “I’ve got her!” as she seized the links she needed to burn through the shadow’s power. The three of them fell to the floor, and Aern felt the warm wetness against his back that must have been their tea. The heat of it made him question whether it had truly happened that fast.
Panting, Logan shoved the woman aside, leaving Emily and Aern free of her weight. Brianna looked sick, but her cheeks were flushed, the blood rushing back where it’d been denied, her neck bright. She glanced at them, apparently deciding they would live, and then rushed to Wesley, kneeling at his side to place a hand over his chest. The boy was struggling for air, unable to catch a full breath. She slid a palm beneath his neck, tilting his head back, and murmured something Aern couldn’t hear.
The door to the office slammed open, the soldiers responding to the alarm, and Aern knew it had, in fact, happened just that fast. Seconds. He threw a hand out, catching Logan’s proffered arm, and pulled himself to his feet to face them. His chest heaved, the intake of breath burning as he said, “We have it. Help the boy.”
The men lowered their weapons, rushing to aid Wesley and Brianna.
“Augh,” Emily said from beside him. Her palm pressed against her chest, rubbing away her own pain. She winced, aiming a narrowed gaze at Logan. “You really need to work on focusing that tighter.”
Logan dropped back onto a ruined chair, too exhausted to even nod, and Aern held a hand out to Emily. He didn’t ask her if she was okay, because he could feel that she would be. Instead, he only brushed a thumb over the back of her hand, squeezing it tight within his.
“Take her to the Cook rooms,” Aern said, gesturing toward Ava’s prone form. She wasn’t moving, but Aern knew at some point she would wake up. And even if she’d no longer be a danger, he wanted her locked away. His eyes connected with the soldier in front of her. “Tell no one.”
She was a shadow, hiding in plain sight of the Council and their business. And they’d not even suspected her.
***
When Wesley was carried from the room via stretcher, Emily and Logan catching their breath on the two remaining chairs, Brianna’s gaze had caught on Aern. There was something there, some recognition that aside from the fact that she and her sister hadn’t been burned in the other attack, another detail had gone unnoticed among the chaos. This shadow, and the ones days before, hadn’t given more than a thought to Emily. She’d barely gotten a scratch, and when she’d attacked them full-force, they’d only defended themselves in the barest possible manner. He couldn’t know what it meant, couldn’t understand why, but their focus had been solely on destroying Brianna. The dark-haired man had said he’d saved her because he needed her, because she was the one they wanted. This new realization might not have given Aern an answer, but it certainly had removed all doubt. This wasn’t a fluke. These shadows were planning something, and it only required one sister.
As he looked at Brianna now, he could see that she’d tucked it away, hidden the concern from Emily until she understood the implications of it. They’d moved to a secondary office in the same suite, Logan in a clean shirt where he relaxed into a narrow leather sofa, Brianna close beside him. Emily sat on a spindle chair across from them, her elbows perched on either side over the thinly padded arms, fingers pressed to her temples.
“So,” she said, “what do we do with her now?”
Ava had been locked away, but her presence would be missed. Something would have to be done, and announcing that shadows were hiding among the ranks—that they could be born and raised within Council—would not go over smoothly. While they could create a story for her disappearance, she would eventually recover.
Or the other shadows would come looking for her.
Brianna leaned forward, shrugging. “We use her.”
Emily’s eyes squeezed shut. “And how, do you propose, we do that?”
Expression suddenly bright, Brianna answered, “It’s just like you said.” She pointed to her sister—“You burn her”--gestured at Aern—“Aern sways her”—and then her palms turned up, shoulders lifting—“and we just walk right into the bad guy lair.”
Emily stared at the ceiling, regretting the words now that they were being used against her. But she hadn’t taken them to heart.
Aern sighed, running a hand over his face. “She’s serious.”
“Yes,” Brianna said, “I am.”
“Bri,” Emily started, but her words were cut short by Brianna’s argument.
“No. I’m sick of sitting here waiting to be attacked. You want to stop this…--she hesitated, the dark-haired man’s name not coming easily from her lips—“Callan?” Her eyes locked on Emily. “Then let’s do it. Let’s find out what he’s after before it’s too late.”
Emily’s mouth twisted, but taking action wasn’t exactly the kind of thing she disagreed with in general.
“You know it’s true,” Brianna said. “You know there’s something, some small step that’s keeping us alive right now. The moment they decide, when the switch flips, there
will be nothing we can do to stop them.”
Chapter Twenty-eight
Brianna
“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” Emily muttered.
“You’ve had a week to think of something better,” Brianna replied. “I would have gladly taken a less idiotic suggestion than my own.” Brianna couldn’t help but smile at using the word Emily had repeated each time she’d mentioned the plan in the previous six days, but the prospect of actually going through with it was anything but funny. “Now pay attention, the show’s about to start.”
Ava’s connections were thoroughly burnt, but she still retained a bit of the healing that was apparently natural to the shadows. She’d only woken earlier in the morning, nearly a week after the attack, but given the extent of her injuries, it was still fairly impressive.
They stood in the center of one of the security-heavy Cook rooms, watching as Aern prepared to sway Ava into telling them what would hopefully be valuable information. Eric and Seth had joined them, as had Kara, who should have been using a cane or crutches but rejected the idea of anything that might make her look weak. All three looked the worse for wear. Their wounds were healing, but had been gnarly, particularly in the case of Kara, who’d remained on her feet in the fight longer than either of the men. She’d lost most of her hair, though, and it was now shorn into a severe pixie cut that somehow made her look even fiercer than before.
Brianna knew they were healing fast, and though the shadows couldn’t match their speed, it seemed they surpassed the Seven in durability. She felt absently for the older scar that marked her own side, no more than a thin ridge of pale skin now, and couldn’t help but recall the battle with Morgan. It had seemed like such an end-all at the time, a fight that was larger than life, that would lead to the death of so many humans and destruction of the Seven. The notion had been right, she supposed, if only for what these shadows had planned. But Morgan was nothing compared to them.
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