The Collectors' Society

by Heather Lyons

  Something else crashes in the next room; maniacal giggles follow. But none of that matters any longer, because the moment she yells out, “Holy shit, I think I cut my toe,” my lips meet Finn’s.

  Live wires explode throughout my body. Logical thought disappears like a magician’s trick.

  Hands curl tighter around my waist, pulling me into him. My own drift higher until they loop around his neck. His mouth is soft and hard and warm and addictive, and when his tongue touches the seam that holds the last of my restraints in, I lose the battle.

  It was a good fight, but this is better.

  Our tongues trace one another, and I’m tasting mint and Finn and it’s just as drugging as anything in Wonderland. The situation is less than ideal, risky as all hell, even, but stupidly, none of that matters. His body leans farther into mine, pressing me up against a wall I’d already been trapped against, and yet he isn’t close enough. I want—no, need—him closer. He instinctively must sense this from me, because the next thing I know, our legs overlap in the tiny space and he’s erased the separation. I’m aching and desperate and we kiss until we consume all the air in the closet and then continue to do so long after dizziness sets in.

  This isn’t my first kiss, nor even my hundredth. I am no inexperienced girl. And yet, as my knees go weak and my heart beats in a wild symphony and my nerve endings become painfully aware of every inch of his body pressed up against mine, I marvel at how it all feels so new.

  Time blurs together until it’s meaningless, until the closet and clothes disappear around us. Everything in this moment is touch and sensation, and I’m drunk on it. Finn whispers, just barely, my name again, his mouth traveling down the length of my chin to the sensitive skin just below my ear, and it sounds like a benediction coming from him.

  “ROSEMARY, GET THE FUCK DOWN HERE!”

  We startle apart at the male voice. It’s Jenkins. Reality slaps us both straight across the face, but at least now we have a name. Rosemary.

  “GO FUCK YOURSELF!”

  Feet clomp on stairs and another rip of a creak fills the room. “What crawled up your ass and died today? Are you on the rag?”

  I know that voice. My fingers curl tighter into Finn’s shirt. I whisper, right up against his ear, “That’s Todd.”

  He’s breathing heavily when he nods his confirmation. A small sound beeps in our ears, letting us know our window for escape has passed. Have twenty minutes truly passed so quickly? He slides both our eye screens back into place right as Wendy’s voice says, “AF, do you copy?”

  “This is bullshit!” she yells. “He thinks I’m his fucking sex slave or something!” Pounding sounds against the floor. “GO TAKE AN ACID BATH, YOU SICK FUCKING PERVERT!”

  Apparently, I’m not the only one who sees the bookstore owner as such.

  Finn presses a button on his earpiece, alerting the team to the fact that we are in no position to orally copy.

  Something is kicked and sent skittering across the room. It bounces against the armoire, sending Finn’s hand to his holster.

  “Until we get what we want, you are his fucking slave and everything else if that’s what it takes,” Todd growls. “Which means you need to get your ass downstairs and deal with the matter at hand.”

  Her voice lowers. “We don’t need him.”

  “Do you not remember that some bitch from the Society showed up? Took what was ours?”

  My fingers tighten on Finn’s shoulders, but not in a good way. Wendy says, “JD, I’m sending a new virus packet to recode the system.”

  “You should have taken the damn shot last night, Rose,” Todd’s saying. “If you had, we wouldn’t be in this mess right now.”

  The A.D. says, “Copy that, WD1.”

  “You think I didn’t want to?” Rosemary’s voice raises significantly. “I had a bead on her. I was ready to go!”

  “VVB, do you have a visual on AF?” Wendy asks.

  I suck in a breath. Another object in the room crashes to the floor, and I have to grab Finn to stop him from throwing the doors wide open. It isn’t my first assassination attempt, after all. It isn’t even my second, or, hell, my third. This Rosemary better step up her game if she wants to compete with the big girls.

  Okay. Just the thought of her going up against the Queen of Hearts and her wicked battle ax brings an inappropriate grin to my face.

  Finn touches my face. His brows are furrowed, and it takes me a moment to realize he’s wondering what’s got me mimicking the Cheshire-Cat. I shake my head and wave my hand. Later.

  “Negative, WD1,” Victor is saying. “Current view is Jenkins.”

  “You’ll have another chance,” Todd tells Rosemary. “Little Alice from Wonderland can’t be too charmed, can she? We’ll blitz her world next, and then she won’t think too highly of herself any longer. I’m just waiting for the go ahead.”

  He knows who I am. They know who I am. And they’ve threatened those and what I love.

  I have to yank Finn’s arm back once more. He’s shaking in anger, and in the dim, filtered light from the poorly hung doors, I can see cold determination fill his eyes. I want to reassure him that I’ve faced worse than these two, that, after all I’ve been through, I am still standing. I am still breathing. But I can’t do that right now, not with two murderers arguing just feet away from where we’re hiding.

  They’re mine now, though. They just don’t know it yet.

  I press a kiss against the corner of his mouth. Whisper, “Hold your ground.” Just as I pull back, green letters race across my field of vision, telling me that an extraction will be executed within fifteen minutes if we do not make it outside on our own.

  My partner leans forward and whispers softly in my ear, “Get ready.”

  I’m always ready, unfortunately.

  Jenkins bellows once more, demanding that the “two shitheads get downstairs right now.” I expect them to refuse, or at least Rosemary to do so, but a door creaks and footsteps and voices recede.

  We give silence sixty seconds before we pry open the armoire doors. The moment we’re out, Finn grabs my face. He mouths: Are you okay?

  Warmth spreads in my belly. I nod, and then he tugs me forward for a tiny hug.

  I melt.

  When he pulls away, all the parts of me that had been touching him protest. I never learn.

  Just before we dart toward the window, a door creaks open. And there, her mouth and eyes wide in shock, is Rosemary.

  My daggers are out immediately. So are both of Finn’s handguns, and they’re trained right on her. God, he’s alluring when he’s serious like this.

  “What. The. FUCK?” she screeches. “HOW DID YOU TWO GET IN HERE?!”

  I let one of my blades fly, but she’s quicker (and far more limber) than I gave her credit for. Her body nearly folds backward as she skids to the ground, and then she rolls over and snatches a bō staff hidden along the baseboards I hadn’t noticed before.

  “Move another inch,” Finn says, cold as ice, “and I’ll blow your head off.”

  She moves. Of course she moves. He shoots and strikes her shoulder just like he’d meant to. And yet, she doesn’t even falter. Doesn’t flinch, doesn’t cry, doesn’t do anything except continue to scream at us. Is she even human? I don’t have time to investigate, because feet are slapping up the stairs. Todd has come to join the party.

  “Gunshots heard,” the A.D. is saying. “VVB, status on Jenkins?”

  As Todd whips out a pair of his switchblades, spinning them in an overly dramatic circle that has me rolling my eyes, another gunshot explodes through the building. Only this one isn’t from Finn, because glass shatters and a roar from a floor below nearly shakes everyone to their feet.

  “Bleeding,” Victor replies grimly.

  Todd charges Finn; my partner fires yet another bullet. Society protocol dictates we disable suspects in consideration for future questioning, but I can’t help but notice Finn’s mark is perilously close to the barber’s heart.
Another roar fills the attic, but just as shockingly as with Rosemary, Todd does not go down.

  I do, though. Right when Rosemary slams her staff across my belly while I wasn’t paying attention to her. I roll to the side as Finn fires again. He’s clipped Todd’s right shoulder. And then I throw my dagger out as Rosemary swings once more.

  I connect with her leg. It’s her turn to finally scream. They’re a loud bunch, aren’t they? And extremely high on drugs, from the looks of it. Both fiends’ eyes are glazed and crazed.

  It’s not a good combination. No wonder Finn’s shot didn’t slow her down.

  Another shot sounds below. Todd, bleeding and deranged, throws himself right at Finn. But my partner doesn’t even bat an eye—he headbutts the barber before kicking him backward. “Did you delete those Timelines?” he rages when Todd sprawls before him. “Did you personally destroy the catalysts marked on your fucking target wall?”

  Todd’s laughter is terrifying.

  “You bitch!” Rosemary is hissing, tearing my attention back to my assailant. She yanks out my dagger and throws it to the ground as she surges to her feet.

  Wrong move. I immediately counter her, sweeping her fresh legs out from beneath her. And then I’m straddling her scrawny body, slamming her head into the hard wooden floor. She howls, kicking, but I’m stronger than I look.

  A hand shoves my chin up; fingers try to close in around my throat. I’m undeterred, even though spots float before my eyes. She’ll have to squeeze harder if she wants me out. When her scrambling turns frantic, I manage to tug over my blade.

  As much as I want to shove it right into her windpipe, I flip it over and slam the butt against her temple. I need information. “What do you know of Wonderland?” She howls, and I repeat the action, harder than before. “How did you know of the catalyst in Mansfield Park?”

  She spits on me. I spit right back.

  A fresh surge of adrenaline has her finally shoving me off. Behind us, Todd is crashing into the armoire we hid in. Finn’s right there on top of him, throwing a pair of punches to the chin before kicking him so hard the barber slumps to the ground. “Did you murder all those people for fun? How did you know about the catalysts?”

  Blood spurts from Todd’s nose and lips, but, outside of his maniacal laughter, says nothing.

  Where are Finn’s guns?

  I don’t have time to look, though. Rosemary tries to take me down again, the bō staff reclaimed. She may be fast, she may be flexible, but I’m better. I let go of a roundhouse kick, sending her sprawling. And then I grab her shirt, hauling her up. “How do you know of the Society?”

  She’s demonic with her laughter, and for a moment, I could swear she was a Wonderlander.

  “AF, situation compromised,” Wendy is saying in our ears. “Security system override unnecessary. Extraction in T-minus three minutes.”

  “I’ll kill you,” she snarls.

  How cliché of her. I slam her down, bringing my elbow down on her temple. Blood trickles from a split lip as her eyes roll back. “Better people than you have tried.”

  Finn clicks the button on his ear right as one of Todd’s blades make contact with his leg. My heart swells over how he doesn’t flinch. Not once. “Copy.”

  But, like a robot, Rosemary is miraculously back on her feet. So is Todd. Both are bleeding far worse than either Finn or I, but it’s not a good sign that they can fight so easily through the pain.

  It took me a good two years to learn how to do so.

  Finn throws another punch at Todd’s battered face as Rosemary rams my stomach with her surprisingly hard head. But, somehow, Finn’s there to catch me before I fall.

  “Two minutes to extraction, AF,” Wendy says.

  Finn kicks Todd squarely in the chest, sending him flying back a good five feet. It’s my turn to throw a punch, and when Rosemary goes down, she doesn’t get up so easily.

  Finn and I sprint toward the window. He kicks out the pane and shoves me out first. “Climb to the roof,” he says just seconds before Todd yanks him back into the room.

  I scramble to get to him, but my partner yells, “GO!”

  Against my better judgment, I’m up the few metal stairs that it takes to get to the roof. A helicopter comes swinging into view, and for a moment, I’m immobile because Mary’s in the pilot’s seat. The A.D. is next to her, dark glasses obscuring his eyes.

  A ladder drops. I hesitate, especially when I hear the sound of yet another gun shot.

  “ALR, get on the helicopter. Departure in T-minus forty-five seconds.”

  Panic laces through me. I won’t leave without Finn. I won’t. I fumble for my blades, but both are in the attic.

  “ALR,” Wendy says more forcefully. “Get your scrawny ass onto the helicopter right now.”

  Another gun shot, followed by a scream and then a crash. Sirens blare in the distance. I’m halfway to the ledge.

  “ALR, get on the helicopter right now.” It’s a furious Van Brunt.

  I’m about to tell them what they can all do with themselves when a hand appears at the junction of room and stairs. And then, a second later, Finn appears.

  My heart clutches again. He’s bloody, but he’s here.

  I climb the ladder.

  “HOW ARE YOU FEELING?”

  Finn glances up from his laptop, clearly startled to find me leaning against the doorframe to his bedroom. He’s spread out across his bed, propped up on elbows and shirtless, and sinful thoughts fill my mind.

  I know how it feels to be kissed by this man now.

  I really should have just stayed away and left well enough alone. A thousand rationalizations peppered my thoughts once we got back to the Institute the night before, ones that made sense. It was the heat of the moment. Stakes were raised. Our adrenaline was already spiked. I shouldn’t be feeling this way. It was a momentary lapse in reasoning. We’re partners, nothing more.

  But other thoughts made sleep difficult. Was he hurt worse than I thought? We’d both visited Victor to have our wounds looked at before sitting in on an hour-long meeting during which Van Brunt and the Librarian had us relating every last detail of our time in Ex Libris’ attic. We were given morphine shots (under Van Brunt’s orders—both of us protested but were overruled), and over the course of the hour, it became apparent the drug made Finn more than a bit loopy to the point he started to slur his words together and doze at the table.

  It was then I demanded we table further discussions until the next day.

  His brother and father eventually dragged him upstairs to his flat to sleep it off. I’d trailed along (under Mary’s watchful eyes), but morphine and the like are akin to alcohol to me. Things blur, but I’m more than capable of functioning under such duress. But I laid awake, reliving the night’s events.

  I kissed him. He kissed me. Guilt tore holes within my chest. Worse yet, Todd and Rosemary know who I am and plan to target Wonderland next.

  I’d rolled over on my side and stared out of the window. The moon was fat and round and bright, reminding me of far too many nights I used to stare at it and wonder what the next morning would bring. And there I was, wondering that infernal question once more, as I tried to make sense of the evening’s events.

  Hairline fissures grew in the shields I’d carefully built around me over the last six months.

  After I got dressed this morning, I couldn’t help myself. I told myself it was because I wanted to see how he was doing, but the fact was, I simply wanted to see him. So, I knocked on his door and he’d called out for me to come in. Now here I am, in his bedroom and his flat for the first time, wondering if I’d hit my head too hard hours before, because I’m surrendering to the attraction between us, aren’t I?

  He closes the laptop and gifts me with a smile Mary once noted to be a panty-dropping grin. It’s an apt description. “Sorry. I thought you were Victor. If I’d known it was you, I would have gone and answered.”

  The muscle in my chest thumps to a stronger rhythm. I c
ross my arms, hating that I can’t seem to control these reactions. Too bad I wasn’t paired with a cruel, stupid man. “It’s fine. I’m a big girl who knows how to open doors by herself. It’s terribly scandalous, but what can one do? A lady doesn’t always have a man around to open doors, after all.”

  “Those with manservants do.”

  My laugh is a burst of surprised air. “Alas, I no longer have those in employ.”

  He rolls off his bed and slowly wanders over to where I’m standing. Golden sunlight spills through the slated blinds on the windows, leaving strands of his honeyed hair glinting. I’m struck once more by just how beautiful he truly is.

  I clear my throat. Lick my lips. Ask again, “How are you feeling?”

  His eyes settle on my mouth, of that I’m sure. “Good as new.”

  “No pain?”

  He shakes his head. “You?”

  “None. I’m not the one who got stitches this time, remember?”

  He glances down at his leg. He’d objected last night, but Victor had insisted. Honestly, I’d sided with the doctor.

  “What were you doing?”

  “The Librarian had some questions, so I was amending our report.”

  The rhythm in my chest changes, becomes more forcefully strong. “It couldn’t have waited until later? You need your rest.”

  He lifts an arm and plants a palm on the wall just above and to the left of my head. Our bodies are inches away from one another—not as close as they were in that closet, but with such a lack of space that the heat from his body meets mine and the delicious smell of this man fills my senses. “I slept for eight hours, which is longer than I have in probably five years.”

  It’s bloody annoying how my cheeks flush. Even more so annoying is how ridiculous I feel for even coming in here. “Your body needs to heal.”

  “My body is fine.”