Bound by Prophecy

by Melissa Wright

  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 filtered 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.

  Talk turned to the troubles of late, barely skirting the chief taboo of the evening: Morgan. Bringing up the name of the man the guest of honor was hiding from would not only be ill-mannered, it would lead to the questions the Division was trying to keep from answering directly. So far, they’d managed to inform Brianna of Morgan’s desire for her, his power to sway, and the danger to the rest of us. What they’d been afraid to disclose, however, was the prophecy, and how central she was to their plan.

  While Eric and Seth discussed the messes being made by Council, the commonbloods who were being used and then left without cover stories or explanations of any kind, I considered again what Emily’s life must have been like, knowing her sister was the chosen and being held responsible for her safekeeping.

  A small white plate of custard drizzled with chocolate and caramel pulled me from my thoughts and I glanced down the table at Emily, who finally looked like she’d found something she could eat. She lifted the tiny dessert fork, but stopped short at the turn of conversation.

  “Four of them, beaten near death and dumped roadside with no explanation,” Seth complained.

  She stared across the table at him, her hand dropping slowly to return the utensil.

  Eric sat beside Seth, joining in, “We’re spending our resources on cleaning up after them. They aren’t even adhering to the oldest codes. If we miss something, it will be on the news. The commonbloods…”

  Emily’s hands went into her lap as they continued. She looked a bit sick.

  “… like we have the time and resources to waste on their used commonbloods—”

  It was about the sixth time in so many minutes they’d used the label, and Seth’s words were cut short as Emily, who was suddenly standing, slammed her fist on the table. “They aren’t commonbloods, they’re people,” she said. “Dead. People.”

  The room fell still. Emily’s stare was focused directly on Eric and Seth, so she was unaware that the rest of us could only watch her, could only look on in shock as Brianna’s quiet sister transformed from a pretty young blonde into a barely restrained fury. Her eyes were hard, expression not just livid, but outraged, and she was suddenly older. It was as if she’d seen more than any of us in her years, and yet remained shocked at our manners.

  Seth had the decency to look shamed at having offended a guest, and Eric inclined his head slightly in apology. The silence became awkward, heavier and heavier, and, eventually, Emily returned to her seat.

  But dinner just wasn’t the same after that.