Fate of Flames

by Sarah Raughley

  Thanks, buddy. Rest in peace, I guess.

  I wiped my forehead. The cloudless sky left me at the mercy of the Argentinean sun, the muggy air sluggish as it slopped into my lungs. What if Saul was to see me sweating like this and thought it was because of nerves? Would it tip him off?

  “You’re doing fine,” Rhys reminded me for perhaps the thousandth time. “Just relax.”

  I was relaxed. Yes. Fully relaxed. I was actually doing pretty well for my first real mission; granted, being bait for a psychotic mass murderer didn’t require much physical effort.

  I patted my hands on my shorts. Civilians milled about, visiting the graves of their loved ones. Some knelt before headstones while others scattered the soil with white lilies and other flowers I couldn’t identify. Mourning families weren’t exactly fun to see. The bigger problem, though, would be clearing them all out once Saul showed up. Who knew what that psycho was planning? These people were in danger. You’d think an international organization would have considered that by now.

  Might as well bring it up. “Hey, Rhys,” I whispered.

  “Don’t talk into the mic.”

  Oh, yeah.

  “But—”

  “Shh.”

  Hopefully he hadn’t heard my sigh.

  Rhys was a field agent. This meant he spent his days as one of a handful of agents stationed in towns with weak APDs, protecting the locals whenever phantoms appeared. Still, there were times when even field agents were recalled and mobilized to disaster sites with the Sect’s organized troops. After Brooklyn, he could have chosen to go back to his post in rural New York.

  Instead, he was here with me.

  I wanted to thank him, but I didn’t feel like getting shushed again. Maybe later . . . if we were both still alive.

  More waiting. It was already ten minutes past the meeting time. Even though I was told not to, I started panicking. Last night my face had been splashed across every newspaper, online article, and television station—plus a brand-new, seventy-page thread on the Doll Soldiers forum. Bookmarked, naturally.

  SIXTEEN-YEAR-OLD MAIA FINLEY: THE NEXT EFFIGY?

  IS MAIA FINLEY REALLY WHO SHE SAYS SHE IS?

  Saul had to have seen my message, but what if he hadn’t? Worse: What if he didn’t care?

  “What?” Rhys sounded frantic. “What did you just say?”

  I frowned. “I didn’t say anything. You told me not to.”

  “No, not you, Maia—stand by.” A few heart-pounding seconds later: “Saul’s just been spotted five miles east of here.”

  Even in the stifling heat, my hands numbed from the chill surging through me. What happened next was a chaotic blur: The other visitors at the cemetery ran toward me, shouting into their communication devices. Sect agents. Rhys was among them. Before I could fully wrap my head around what was happening, they’d already swept me into a white van.

  “El Ateneo bookshop.” Rhys showed me the map on his phone as we drove through the busy streets. “He has hostages, but it’s you he wants, Maia.”

  “Yay,” I said without a hint of mirth. Hostages at a bookshop. Saul was nothing if not dramatic.

  Apparently, it had taken Sibyl all of half a minute to come up with a plan B from headquarters. I listened as they explained what I’d have to do, and before long, we’d arrived at the bookstore. News vans, city police, and Sect personnel crowded the street. Police had their guns, but they wouldn’t be enough; a black cloud closed off the entrance.

  Phantoms. Wasplike, same as the ones that had swarmed us outside La Charte. But these ones didn’t attack. They simply hovered and watched, a poisonous barrier of flickering black smoke. It was as if they were following an order.

  At the window was the one who’d given it. Saul slid up to the glass, a sly, nightmarish grin on his ghost-pale, fine-boned face.

  “Just shoot him!” Chae Rin. She’d just hopped out of one of the Sect vans with Lake and Belle, and her hand had already found Rhys’s collar. “What are you doing?”

  “We can’t!” He shrugged her off.

  “Why not?” Lake and I had asked at the same time.

  “The building’s full of phantoms,” he fired back. “And as he made damn sure to let us know, they’ll slaughter people at the slightest provocation.”

  “I can’t believe this!” Chae Rin looked like she wanted to punch something, which was probably why Rhys shifted away from her. “Phantoms. But isn’t this place protected?”

  It was. So was Brooklyn. And Moscow and Bern and all the other cities whose antiphantom devices Saul had managed to scramble.

  “Maia.” Belle gripped my shoulder and forced me around, but I was on her before she could even speak.

  “What the hell is happening?” I didn’t care who could hear me. “I thought you guys had this under control!”

  “We do,” Belle said. “Nothing’s changed. We have him here. Now you have to do your job. Consider this your first solo mission as an Effigy.”

  My face hardened. “I already did.”

  Belle reiterated Sibyl’s plan. My knees twitched, but there was no time to indulge any fear. The longer I freaked, the more time Saul had to hurt someone, and there was no way I was going to let that happen. Not again.

  Both of the tools I needed for the mission were small enough to fit in my back jeans pocket. The agents said I’d have to be discreet when it came time to reach for them. Saul would be watching.

  I retied the sweatshirt around my waist to hide them.

  “Wait!” Lake grabbed my arms. “You’re seriously going in there? Alone?”

  “It’s okay,” I said with a smile. “Stay here.”

  I made for the phantom horde, the reporters who’d refused to be evacuated crowding me as I approached. The new Effigy striding into battle, her heroics caught on camera.

  From the window, Saul’s gaze trailed every step I took until he was out of my line of vision. The phantoms parted to let me through the glass doors.

  How courteous.

  I’d heard of El Ateneo before, seen pictures. For a bookstore, it was shamelessly ornate. Several floors spanned up in rings, each lined with bright lights, and beyond the metal railings, rows and rows of bookshelves in place of the theater seats from the bookstore’s earlier days as an amphitheater.

  Now, books littered the floors, probably scattered in the pandemonium of fleeing customers. I moved beyond the tall columns and up the steps, my eyes wandering across the gorgeous frescoed ceiling before spotting a heavy set of crimson curtains framing the far front stage.

  The curtains were already drawn.

  Phantoms. At the center of the stage, massive wolves of shadow and smoke encircled a small group of terrified customers. The stage must have doubled as a coffee shop; tables and chairs lay in pieces, white mugs bleeding coffee all over the finished floor.

  One of the customers saw me and shouted something in Spanish, only for a phantom to threaten him into silence with a snap of its rotting, unhinged jaw.

  “So, poupée,” came Saul’s voice from above. “You wanted to talk?”

  Saul leaned over the railing of the third floor, his arms dangling leisurely as if he were simply enjoying the view. He hadn’t yet wiped off the streaks of blood on his hands.

  Stay cool, Maia, I told myself. That’s right. This time, I was the badass Effigy come to save the day. I stood firm on my unsteady feet.

  “Is this really necessary?” I forced my tone to be as casual as possible. “Can’t we just talk without the live audience?” I figured Belle or Natalya would have said something snappy like that.

  Saul’s white locks flowed loose over his shoulders. With one smooth movement, he linked his fingers into his hair and swept them back. “They were just to get your attention.” He propped his head up with a hand. “Plus, I thought I’d need the insurance. A lot of people outside want me dead.”

  “And whose fault is that?”

  Saul raised a hand and the phantoms began snarling, white frothi
ng saliva dripping from their twisted teeth. The customers held in their screams, gripping each other tight.

  “You don’t need them, because you have me,” I said quickly. “Nobody’ll shoot as long as I’m in here. I mean, that’s just obvious.”

  “You sure about that?” He examined his nails. “That’s the thing about Effigies. Each girl is just one dismal link in an obnoxiously long chain.” He smirked. “And every once in a while, a worthless little girl like you appears. Last time we met, you couldn’t even defend yourself against me. It’s a miracle you’re still alive.”

  He sounded so annoyingly, punchably, sure of himself. I balled my hands into fists. “Exactly,” I said, thinking quickly. “Okay, I’m worthless as an Effigy. You got me. I can barely light a match. But if you kill me, the Sect’ll have to waste time trying to find the next one all over again. You’ll have to waste time finding the next one. I’m right here. I have Marian in my head and all the answers you want. If you let these guys go and just keep me . . . I mean, it’s not like I’ll be a threat to you, right?”

  As Saul considered it, I watched the cowering customers from the corner of my eye.

  Finally, he shrugged. “Fine.”

  With a snap of his fingers, the wolves backed off, leaving just enough room for the customers to scurry down the steps in shock, grateful to still have their lives.

  As soon as the doors opened, the customers were swallowed up by police and reporters, but nobody else came inside the building. I heard Rhys’s voice through the earpiece.

  “Good job. Great, Maia. Now remember the rest of the plan. It’s okay, you can do it.”

  His voice was like a lifeline—gentle, strong, and sure. It was what I needed right now more than ever.

  “What are you waiting for?” Saul waved for me to come join him.

  Staring at him was like staring down the barrel of a gun, but there was no turning back now. With a silent but deep inhale, I started off, acutely and painfully aware of the phantoms loping behind me. It was almost kind of funny, the way they entered the elevator with me. I would have asked which floor they wanted if they hadn’t forced me into a corner, locking me into place with their murderous gaze and threatening teeth. They wouldn’t have appreciated the joke anyway.

  They backed off once the doors opened, just enough to let me step carefully out of the elevator. Behind the bookshelves in one of the old theater booths, Saul sat in an armchair. Just to his right was the window I’d first seen him through. If I peered through the glass I’d see them all: the agents, the police, the reporters, and the other girls, all watching for some sort of signal.

  But I couldn’t give it to them. Not yet. There would come a time for that, but for now I had to follow the plan exactly. For now I had to stay out of sight, like him.

  Saul had a book between his fingers, and when he noticed me staring at it, he showed me the cover: The Picture of Dorian Gray. Oscar Wilde.

  “And here I thought you were just a video game junkie.” I didn’t even bother to hide my contempt. “How nice that you read, too.”

  “Well, I’ve had decades to do both. Not that I haven’t been busy.”

  Decades? I couldn’t show my confusion; it would give me away. Instead I nodded, my features creased into a frown. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?” I asked as he placed the book gingerly on the table beside him. “Since you’ve talked to Marian, I mean.”

  “Well, you should know.” Saul leaned in. “Since you’ve remembered everything.”

  I swallowed. “Yeah.”

  “Or were you lying?”

  “What?” I moved my leg back, stopping abruptly when I remembered the snarling phantoms nipping at my heels. “No. That’s why I’m here. To talk.”

  Saul was on his feet. “About?”

  “Everything.”

  He wasn’t convinced. It was obvious. He studied me as he approached, a slit of a smile across his face, watching for even the faintest hint of dishonesty.

  This was not the plan.

  “Relax.” Rhys. It was like I could breathe again at the sound of his voice. “This is your interrogation.”

  True. The plan was to get as much information as possible from Saul before striking. If I was going to get those answers, I’d have to turn the tables, and fast.

  “Is that why you’ve been attacking all those cities?” I gripped the reins of the conversation for dear life, shifting my weight to my leg and folding my arms to show at least the illusion of confidence. “Just to see Marian?”

  “Of course not. I told you before. I did it to kill people.” I flinched at his touch, his fingers trailing down my cheek. I jerked my head away, holding in a shudder. “But then, even killing people is a part of the game.”

  “Game?”

  “Of which Marian is a key part, so if you wouldn’t mind . . . ?”

  My hands trembled. “You murdered people. You think that qualifies as a goddamn game? You—”

  “Let me talk to Marian now, or I’ll have them eat you.”

  I went rigid, willing my knees not to buckle despite the brush of the phantom’s breath against them. “Oh yeah, I forgot,” I said as coolly as I could. “They’re basically your winged monkeys, aren’t they? Controlling phantoms. Never seen that before. But . . . I wonder if that pretty piece of jewelry you have on your finger has anything to do with it?”

  On his right-hand middle finger: a ring. The ring. Saul let his silent grin speak for him, but its murderous thirst gave me a reason to change focus.

  “Okay, I’ll let you talk to Marian,” I said, “but you’re going to have to tell me how to do it.”

  “How to bring forth Marian, you must mean. Interesting.” Saul studied me. “Okay. But would you humor me? I need to explain a few things first.”

  Slipping his hands into his pockets, Saul walked past me to the bookshelf. “You see, Effigies are sad little things,” he said. “There’s no peace after whatever gruesome death awaits them. No light at the end of the tunnel. They’re bound to the next Effigy.” He laughed. “So many girls crammed inside one frail human body. Strange, isn’t it?”

  I said nothing.

  “Links in a chain.” Saul repeated the phrase with a derisive laugh. “Only one mind can have dominance at any time—like yours, in this case. But searching through the scattered memories leaves your own mind vulnerable.”

  I was well aware. Going into Natalya’s memories just once had disoriented me so badly I nearly got myself skewered in a circus act.

  “I figured,” I said through gritted teeth.

  “Then you should also know this.” Saul placed his book back into an empty slot on the shelf and turned. “That very same vulnerability makes it possible for another mind to take over.”

  My jaw set. No. No, I didn’t know that.

  “Do you know why I’m saying this?” He seemed pleased at the sight of my grim face. “As weak as you are.” He stepped toward me. “As fresh, as untrained.” Another step. And another. “If you really did recall all of Marian’s memories, there’s no way you would have been able to retain your own self.” He tapped his temple. “She would have taken over.”

  Saul had me pinned between himself and his phantom beasts. It wasn’t possible anymore to keep my breathing quiet, but I met his mocking eyes head-on. Lifting my trembling chin, I shrugged. “Maybe she’s not the type. Maybe she didn’t want to take over someone else’s body, Nick,” I added viciously, and waited for the hit to land. Nothing. It didn’t work. The name hadn’t affected him at all. And I was running out of options.

  Saul’s grin turned truly wicked. “But who wouldn’t?” He grabbed my throat and lifted me off my feet. “If you were hoping to get me again with that name, don’t worry: I made sure to send Nick far, far away. He gets a bit annoying when he starts picking at the locks, so I buried the whole cage.” He grinned. “He won’t hear you again. Promise.”

  I could barely hear any of it. The blood pulsed in my ears as Saul squeezed my
throat.

  “Maia, is it? I know you lied. I know it was all just to get me here, but still, before I kill you, there’s something I need to know.”

  I clutched at his hands, kicking my feet to set myself free. The phantoms nipped at my heels as my legs dangled in the air.

  “Is what I’m doing really so bad?” Saul seemed only half-sincere as he squeezed the air out of my lungs. “You called it ‘murder.’ Okay, yes, I know it’s wrong. But isn’t there something you’d give anything for? Isn’t there a wish you have?”

  I was wheezing and coughing my own air away. But it was okay. My hands were still free. . . .

  “A secret wish. A wish you’d sacrifice anything or anyone for.”

  Once again I was flat against the window. Saul relished the familiar scene, peeking through the window at the officers below. “Don’t judge me, Maia. I’m not the only one. Nick has his wish too, even if he won’t admit it. What about you, poupée?”

  He leaned in, his sweet breath brushing my cheek.

  I had to stay calm. No matter what. Just stay calm. I slipped a hand underneath my sweatshirt.

  “Maia, isn’t there something you want more than anything?”

  I pried my lips open with a gasp and forced words up my hoarse throat.

  “What?” Saul leaned in. “What did you say?”

  “I said . . .” I glared at him. “I want you to shut the hell up.”

  My hands found my back pocket. The little metal tracking device was the size and shape of a button—small enough to fit into the gaping hole of Saul’s mouth. I shoved it in, clamping his jaw shut. The sight of his Adam’s apple bobbing made me nearly delirious with success. He stumbled back, obviously too shocked to command his phantoms to pounce.

  In case he got away. Sibyl’s contingency plan.

  A flood of adrenaline flushed my system as I dug the inoculation gun out of my other pocket. Long, thick, and red—I’d thought it was a pen the first time I’d seen it.

  Don’t let the design throw you off. It’s like any other pressurized inoculation device.

  This is what Rhys had told me earlier. The agents had gone over the specs of the device with me in meticulous detail on the way to the bookstore, but I could remember only pieces of it.