Shieldak took a single step toward them. His wings remained flared, his fists clenched. This close, Allai could fully see the rigid set of his jaw, the narrowing of his eyes.
“Allai,” he said. “Come with me. Now. We have things to discuss.”
Drake snarled. Allai startled at the sound and stumbled back a step. People didn’t snarl at her dad, not if they wanted to live.
She looked up at Drake. And then realized he didn’t give a shit if he lived or not. He was shaking, holding back a form shift, and his eyes were livid. The rest of his expression remained blank, completely impassive. But his eyes narrowed and burrowed into her father, as if he thought he could tear into him with just his gaze.
“Get away from her,” Drake hissed.
Shieldak snapped his attention back to Drake. His smile grew a little. “Do you really think you can give me orders in my own home, Drake?” He shook his head slowly, and then quietly said, “Step away from Allai. I’ll deal with you as soon as I’m finished with her.”
There was menace in his voice. It was familiar, the same tone he used whenever he confronted an enemy. But, at the same time, it was foreign. Because she was supposed to be his daughter, not his enemy.
“Dad, please don’t do this.” Her words came out choked. For once, she didn’t care.
She didn’t see Shieldak’s hand. It moved too fast, and her eyes were too blurred with tears. But she felt the harsh sting of his slap as it struck her cheek. She didn’t react, not even to back away. Shock froze her.
The world whirled around a little, but pain quickly brought clarity back to her vision. Shieldak stood in front of her, his lip lifted in a snarl. “I am not your dad. Not anymore.”
She tentatively touched her fingertips to her cheek. “I didn’t know that I was a Mage,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”
Shieldak’s hand balled back into a fist, readying a punch. Allai didn’t move. She couldn’t. But Drake reacted for her, shoving Allai behind him and out of harm’s way. He snarled, the sound slowly settling into something between a growl and a hum.
Allai stared at Drake’s back. She didn’t want to peer around him and see her father. Or whatever Shieldak was to her. So she just stared at the back of Drake’s shirt, examining a small hole in the fabric.
Tense silence settled over the hallway. But it only lasted for a moment, until footsteps approached from behind.
She wanted to run. To escape from the Manor and Shieldak, and never look back. But part of her held out, convinced that it was all a mistake, that this would all end peacefully.
The footsteps paused a couple yards behind her. Then she heard a sigh, and a women’s voice said in a bored tone, “You see, Shieldak? This is what happens when you let a Mage into your headquarters. You catch them conspiring with your other enemies.”
Allai knew that voice. High, shrill, and thickly accented. She’d heard it before, but never in person. It was the voice of one of the French ambassadors, the woman who always spoke loud enough so that Allai could listen at the door of Shieldak’s office and catch snippets of the negotiations. Shieldak had mentioned her name before. Amber, or maybe it was Sapphire, or something else distinctly un-French. Crystal, that was it.
Crystal’s footsteps came closer, marked by the patter of heels on the hardwood floor. Drake growled at her without turning away from Shieldak. The pattering rapidly retreated a couple steps.
Crystal cleared her throat when no one said anything. Finally, Allai hesitantly said, “I didn’t know I was a Mage. It’s not my fault.” She looked down at her shoes as she spoke. Somewhere in the back of her head, she remembered that she wasn’t supposed to wear shoes inside. It scuffed the wood. And then she realized she really didn’t give a shit.
Waiting for a response felt like an eternity. Shieldak glared at her. Drake glared back at Shieldak, his arm wrapped securely around her shoulders. And, finally, Crystal said in a mocking tone, “It’s not your fault? So then I suppose it’s not your fault that you’re traipsing around with a son of Rhaize? And I suppose it’s not your fault that you’ve lied to your father all these years about your species?”
The lady really must have not spoken English well, if she still thought all that ‘lying’ was intentional. Allai was about to tell her that, but Shieldak interrupted her by saying, “She’s not my daughter.
That hurt. More than she expected, more than she thought possible. Fresh tears ran down her cheeks, joining the wet streaks already there. She didn’t bother to wipe them away. Maybe Shieldak would see them, maybe he’d change his mind.
Crystal scoffed. “Of course she’s not your daughter. My apologies for referring to her as that. It’s just that she’s tricked you for so long into taking care of her, it’s become a habit to refer to the girl as your relative.”
All those years of trying to please Shieldak. All those years of trying to fight as well as Tridents, trying to be as smart as Hunters, as strong as Chargers. All for him. Where was the trick in that?
Allai looked over her shoulder at Crystal. The image of the ambassador was blurred with tears, but Allai got the gist of it. Tall, gorgeous, carrying a gun at her waist. The kind of person Shieldak expected her to be. And the kind of person she wasn’t.
Crystal sighed, her perfect eyebrows narrowing with contempt. “Well?” she said to Allai. “Don’t you have anything to say to defend yourself?”
Did she? She couldn’t claim to not be a Mage. Apparently that was a lie. And explaining that she’d been as oblivious to this as everyone else seemingly wasn’t going to work, either. That only left one defense.
“Dad,” she whispered, turning back to Shieldak. “I’m your daughter. You’ve always said that. Don’t do this.”
Shieldak flinched. But that was the only sign he’d even heard her plea. “Step away from her,” he repeated to Drake. “Now. This is your last chance.”
She felt Drake’s hand lift off her shoulders just a little. “What are you going to do with her?”
“What he’s supposed to do,” Crystal answered. “What he should have done years ago. He’s going to get rid of her.”
Allai knew she should be feeling dread, horror, terror. She didn’t. None of those things seemed to matter. All that mattered was Shieldak’s gaze burrowing into her, his head slowly shaking back and forth with disdain.
“I’m sorry,” Allai murmured.
Shieldak nodded. “You should be.”
Chapter Seventeen
He didn’t think it through; it was just a split-second decision. A dumb one. A rather enjoyable one. But, still, punching Shieldak wasn’t well thought through.
Drake tore his arm from Allai’s shoulders and clenched his hand into a fist. He’d always liked being left-handed. People didn’t expect a punch from that hand.
It only took a second. Half a second to step forward and land an uppercut to Shieldak’s jaw. A quarter of a second to step back and grab Allai’s hand. And another quarter-second to remember where he was and realize he was royally screwed.
Voices erupted around him. Shouting. Screaming. He hoped the screaming wasn’t coming from Allai, but then he turned to her and realized it was. Shit. She wasn’t going to make this easy.
He thought about telling her this was for her own good. But then he was shifting into his Natural form, his bones crunching and muscles rippling, and he couldn’t open his mouth to tell her that. The moment he felt his wings fix in place—they were always the last things to settle—he picked up Allai and threw her over his shoulder.
Drake always forgot how weak he was in his human form until he shifted back to his Natural. Strength flowed through him, hammering through his veins and heightening his senses.
Claws rushed toward his throat. Shieldak’s. He saw them just in time to duck and extend his own claws.
Lash, cut, duck, weave, run. He barely registered his movements as he struggled against Shieldak and toward the stairs. He felt claws slice through flesh a few times; sometimes his own cl
aws striking home, and sometimes his enemy’s. He’d get some scars from this. It didn’t matter; he already had dozens.
Arms wrapped around his neck, and he thought about yanking them away. But then he realized they were slim and cool, and that they belonged to Allai. The screaming had also stopped, but shrill shouting continued. It was that woman, probably calling for help. He had to get out of here. He had to get Allai out of here.
Shieldak was nothing but a blur. There was definitely a reason the asshole had survived for centuries; he was a good fighter. His claws and wing blades continued to rip into Drake’s flesh and muscle, but Drake barely felt any pain. He just clawed and fought back, using one wing to shield Allai and one to lash at Shieldak.
Drake was almost surprised when he bumped into the banister. He’d made it to the staircase. And he was alive, to boot. Again, he didn’t think. He just jumped over the side of the railing.
He didn’t hear his boots hit the ground. There was only the sound of blood pounding in his ears and his heaving breaths. Allai’s arms around his neck gripped a little tighter. His instincts told him to rip them away, but he fought back the urge.
A snarl came from behind him, and he knew he wasn’t alone. The second floor would be teeming with Sentinel Warriors. But he didn’t look back at whoever was growling at him. Drake looked ahead, toward the wall, toward the window. There was no way he could make it down to the first story and through the door, but the window…
It was his only option. He charged ahead, still shielding Allai with his wing, and slammed into the window. It shattered, breaking around him into hundreds of shards.
He landed on the ground with a hard thud. Somewhere in the back of his head, he registered that Allai was screaming again, and that there was still shouting behind him.
But it was behind him now. Drake grinned at that. He probably looked like a maniac, but he didn’t care. He was out of that hellhole now, and could make a break for it.
He sprinted toward the driveway, vaguely registering the sound of Allai screaming and sobbing, and the feel of her fingernails digging into his skin as she clung to his neck. No one was following him. That was odd. But there were no footsteps pursuing him, or any furious snarls calling after him. There was probably a good reason they weren’t chasing him anymore. He wasn’t going to stop to find out.
An old blue truck sat in the driveway among a bunch of other vehicles. He rushed toward it, retracting the claws of his left hand and reaching into his pocket for the spare set of keys. It took him a moment to remember why he had those keys. Luke. The viper. He’d given them to Drake, along with the girl and the task to keep her alive. He couldn’t forget that.
He wouldn’t forget that.
Chapter Eighteen
The consuming adrenaline started to fade, leaving only fatigue and pain and hunger. He needed to eat. He hadn’t hunted in a week, maybe two? It’d been awhile.
The girl smelled good. Like food. Drake hated it, but she did. Allai was curled in a ball beside him on the truck’s benchseat, silently staring at nothing. He wished she’d do something. Cry, scream, accuse him of kidnapping her. But she just lay there, exactly where he’d put her when he’d first shoved her into the truck.
Drake drummed his fingertips against the steering wheel. A drop of blood dribbled from a wound on his wrist down onto his pant-leg. Shieldak had given him at least eight or nine deep gashes, and they were going to take hours to heal. It was a good thing he had a high pain tolerance. He hated it sometimes, being practically immune to agony, being so removed from pain. But now it was coming in handy.
The country road rushed past, its white lines seemingly endless. He should probably get to Cleveland before he stopped driving for the day. That would be maybe a quarter of the way to Idaho. Probably less, but it would at least be progress.
Before he went any further, he needed to get his truck. This one was a piece of shit. And, well, his was too. But he’d paid for his piece of shit, and he liked it, and he wasn’t leaving it behind in New York. Besides, it’d be harder for Sentinel Warriors to track a truck they didn’t know.
“You doing okay?” he asked the girl. It was a dumb question. But what else was he supposed to say? How’s it feel to get disowned by your father? Do you already miss that viper you call your brother? Isn’t it great being bound to me with a lockgem?
She didn’t respond. Drake rubbed at his forehead and then said, “I’m going to take a back-road that’s coming up.”
Still no response. He wasn’t any good at this. Conversations had never really been his thing, and one-sided conversations were even worse. He just never thought he’d be the one making the effort to talk.
“The road’s going to lead to my truck,” he said. “I hid it on a farm about a week ago. We’ll take my truck to where we’re going. I don’t like yours. But you’ll like mine. I’ve done some work on it, with the stereo and stuff. It’s pretty cool.”
She mumbled something into the benchseat. Drake didn’t catch what she said. He’d been forced to shift back into his human form; his Natural form was hard to stuff into any kind of vehicle, with the metal wings and all. Now his ears were practically useless, even though they were technically better than a true human’s. “Can you repeat that?” he asked.
She took her face out of the benchseat and muttered, “Guys who like cars are dorky.”
He almost smiled at that. He’d never had anyone call him dorky before. ‘Intimidating’ and ‘moody’ and even ‘scary’ were things he’d heard used to describe him. But ‘dorky’? That was a new one.
But he didn’t smile. Because she sounded so depressed, so absolutely miserable. He wished he could cheer her up somehow. But he didn’t have much experience in cheering people up, and he figured now wasn’t the time to experiment.
Drake gave up on the conversation. The road continued to flash by, and he realized he was still speeding. It’d been almost an hour since he fled the Manor. He could probably slow down. No one seemed to be chasing them, and he’d only seen about five cars since he’d started out.
Questions swirled around in his mind. Why wasn’t there twenty cars tearing after him? That seemed like the Sentinel’s style; vicious and efficient. This wasn’t efficient. Letting him get away, letting him take a Caedes Mage with him…
It was odd thinking of the girl as that. A Caedes Mage. He’d suspected she was a Mage, after hearing Dad mutter about her magic for years. But he’d never guessed she was a Caedes. That explained a lot. Why Dad had been so determined to get her to perform magic, why he’d been furious when he’d been unable to unlock her powers.
But it didn’t explain everything. Like why Dad had just suddenly abandoned Allai. On Sentinel land, of all places. And why he’d just allowed Shieldak to care for her all these years.
Ringing interrupted his thoughts. He glanced over to the girl, where the sound came from, and saw the prepaid cell phone poking out of her jean pocket. She didn’t react to the ringing phone—not so much as a twitch. Drake sighed, slowing the truck a little before reaching over and grabbing the phone out of her pocket.
He flipped it open with one hand. “Hey.”
“Drake?” It was Luke’s voice. He sounded surprised, and a little concerned, like he had been expecting Allai to answer.
“Of course it’s Drake,” he muttered. “What other guy would answer the phone?”
“Look, I don’t have time for your attitude,” Luke snapped.
“Did Shieldak catch you? Does he know you helped us?”
Luke scoffed. “No, of course not. I just told him that you escaped and held me hostage for a while. You made me pack you clothes, take you to Allai, everything.”
Drake shifted the position of the phone. It was digging into a cut he had at the base of his ear. “And Shieldak bought that?”
“Drake, I’m blind.”
“So?”
“No one ever suspects the blind guy.”
Drake wasn’t sure if that was humor or
not, so he just changed the subject. “I need some answers,” he said. “I’m still willing to take the girl to the Chimeras. But I need answers if I’m going to keep her safe.”
Luke sighed. “I don’t know much.”
“Just tell me what you do know. How did Shieldak find out she was a Mage? Who came forward, and why after all these years?”
“Her parent came forward to the French,” Luke said. “Apparently they also offered some kind of proof of her species.”
“Her father, her mother? Who? And how could they be stupid enough to tell the French that she was a Mage? They would have to have known that info would get to Shieldak. ”
“I think that was kind of the point. And I don’t know if it was her father or her mother,” Luke said. “I’m not hearing any details. I’m doing my best to figure things out, but Shieldak is also doing his best to keeps things hidden. He looks like an idiot right now, not knowing his own daughter was a Caedes. So he’s trying to cover things up.”
Typical. It was always how things worked, in both the Keepers and the Sentinel. The mistakes of powerful people were just swept under the rug, leaving others weak and clueless. Drake was used to it, but it still made him pissed.
“How can she even be a Caedes?” Drake asked. “She doesn’t have any magic. And her eyes are silver, not bronze.”
“A spell,” Luke said. “It’s why Shieldak didn’t detect her as a Mage. Apparently her parent—whoever he or she is—cast a spell on Allai. It restricts her magic abilities, and makes her seem completely human.”
“Why would they do that?”
“I have no idea,” Luke said. “I think if we can figure out who this parent is, it might answer more questions. All three of the Caedes in the Keepers don’t have kids. So that rules them out. But occasionally a Sano will have a Caedes child. It’s rare, but it does happen.”
Drake tried to absorb this information. His arm was starting to cramp from holding up the phone, and blood continued to trickle from his wrist. What he wanted to do was pull over, tell Luke to shut up, and just sleep until these injuries healed up. But he couldn’t do that. He had to protect the girl.
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