Glyph (The Shadowmark Series Book 3)

by T. M. Catron

  The hybrid laughed—a real laugh that rang through the mine shaft like the ghost of a madman. When he gained control of himself, he said, “What happened to Halston?”

  “Doyle killed him.”

  “Liar. You did.”

  Calla opened her mouth to refute it, but he held up his hand. “I was there.”

  There? On the mountain? Halston must not have been there alone. But Calla had been too drunk on victory to check the surrounding forest. She had wanted to leave the body on the Nomad for Doyle to find.

  “But you’re right,” the hybrid continued. “We need you. Halston saw that. Apparently his words had some delayed effect because you are now hiding from Condar. Why?”

  “I have shamed myself. I let Doyle get away.”

  “Doyle fooled many, including Condar. Why didn’t you turn yourself in?”

  Calla took a deep breath and then winced. Even her lungs hurt.

  “I think you know the answer is relevant, Calla.”

  “Because…” Why was it hard to say?

  “Because?”

  “I don’t want to die.”

  The rogue stood and moved around behind her. She heard the sound of a knife being unsheathed. He was going to kill her. She’d told him what she feared most, and he was going to—

  He cut her bonds. Calla’s arms sprang apart, and she hissed in pain as her broken bones ground against each other. He cut the ropes at her ankles and then stood back, waiting for her to rise. She prepared herself for pain and pushed herself to a standing position.

  When Calla looked him in the eye, she read mistrust there, and grim determination.

  “What’s your name?” she asked.

  “Paul Cummings.”

  Aboard the Nomad, the cockpit was crowded. Nicholas and Li sat on either side of Doyle. Mina stood behind, watching the ship leave the hangar.

  She left and went through to Doyle’s private cabin. After the extra gravity aboard the Factory, walking on the Nomad felt like floating. She paused at the bunk. At least it had a mattress to sleep on. If only she could get some better sleep before landing. The pillows looked wonderful too.

  Mina turned away. If she were going on this mission with three hybrids, she needed to keep up with them. Whining about getting more sleep wasn’t the best way to begin. There wasn’t time for a nap.

  In the bathroom, Mina stood in front of the tiny mirror over the sink. She pulled down the collar of her shirt to gaze at the marks there on her breastbone. She hadn’t really had a chance to look at them properly.

  They extended to each shoulder and down under her bra. Even though she’d only been marked two days ago, the scarring looked old. She traced a swirl under her collarbone, fascinated by the way it was delicate and hard at the same time. Knowing now how incredible they were, she would have said yes if Doyle had given her a choice. But he hadn’t. Mina was still angry with him. Not in a hot rage sort of way, but a depressed, defeated anger that hid in the corner of her heart. Eventually, she would let go of it. But she wasn’t ready yet.

  You should close the door, Doyle said.

  Mina let go of her shirt collar, and it popped back up to cover her adarre. He walked through the cabin to stand in the doorway of the bathroom. “Nick and Li can’t know,” he whispered. He reached over to straighten the neck of her shirt.

  Mina leaned against the sink. “Is there really nothing left in Sacramento?”

  “No,” he whispered. “It’s completely gone.”

  “What if she changes her mind?” Mina whispered too. She dreaded the thought of putting up with Alvarez’s rudeness a moment longer than she had to, but that was no reason to send the other woman off on her own.

  “You think that’s likely?”

  “No.”

  “I found out something.”

  “What’s that?” Mina motioned for him to let her out of the bathroom.

  He backed away until he sat on the bed. “Calla is alive. And she’s not with the Condarri.”

  Cold anger washed over Mina. Calla had killed Emily and Solomon. Her grief was still too raw to think about the hybrid out and running around free. “Where is she?”

  “At the mine.”

  “What’s she doing there?”

  “No idea, except that the rogues were there. But we’re not going there to find out.”

  “But—”

  “We can get a Glyph from anywhere. We don’t have to go back to the silo.”

  “But that’s where you were thinking of going, wasn’t it? Don’t change your plans for me.”

  “I’m not. Calla will be expecting us there. I was thinking somewhere else.”

  “Like where?”

  In answer to Mina’s question, a golden projection of Earth popped up in front of her.

  “Anywhere you like.”

  Mina looked through the hologram to Doyle. “Why did you let her live?”

  “You once left me for protecting you against a hybrid who was going to kill you,” Doyle said pointedly.

  “Don’t lecture me. Why did you let Calla live? You don’t seem to have trouble killing anyone else.”

  “Lower your voice,” he said. He glanced at the cabin door, and it hissed closed. “Up until two days ago, letting Calla live has worked to my advantage.”

  “You could have killed her in that parking lot. I saw the whole thing.”

  “Maybe you’re forgetting the small detail about the Condarri arriving and trying to capture me.”

  “You’re not telling me everything.”

  Doyle stood. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  “So there is something.”

  He sighed. “I’m sorry your friends died, Mina, but it’s not some big conspiracy. I told Calla a long time ago that I wouldn’t be the one to kill her.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Calla and I used to be close.”

  “How close?”

  Doyle shot Mina an exasperated look. “Close enough. Look, we’ve always been rivals—competitors—but at one time we were friends too. I don’t always approve of Calla, but I won’t kill her. I wanted to, at the Lodge. But it’s exactly what she wants.”

  Mina leaned on the desk behind her and propped her foot on the bunk. “I don’t understand.”

  “Neither do I,” he said and stood. The door to the cabin opened. “We’re almost there—better get ready.”

  When they walked out of the cabin, Alvarez stood at the cockpit door. She raised an eyebrow at them both coming out of the room but didn’t comment. Now that Alvarez actually was leaving, Mina warred with herself about it.

  She doesn’t have to go.

  Let her leave.

  She’ll die out there by herself.

  Mina took a deep breath. “Tell me one thing, Lindsay,” Mina said, using Alvarez’s first name. “Are you leaving because of me?”

  Nicholas and Li slid past Alvarez, who was still blocking the doorway. They walked on down the corridor, followed by Doyle.

  Alvarez’s eyes followed him. “No, I’m leaving because of him,” she called to Doyle’s back. He stopped at the end of the hall and turned.

  “What have I done to you?” he asked, not bothering to mask the venom in his voice.

  “What?”

  “You heard me.” Doyle walked back down the hall to them. “Have I done anything to you other than save your life?”

  “Save my life! It wouldn’t have needed saving if you hadn’t been there in the first place! Or haven’t you thought of that?”

  Doyle glanced at Mina.

  “Mina didn’t tell me that,” Alvarez said. “It was evident. We humans aren’t that thick-headed. Clearly, the Glyphs were after you at the Lodge. They ignored everyone else and went straight for you! And all those people—”

  “If you want to blame someone for that, blame me!” Mina said. “Doyle wouldn’t have been there if I hadn’t been there. He was coming back for me. I’m the one you should hate.”

  As
soon as the words spilled out of Mina’s mouth, she realized they were true. The harder she tried to hold back the wave of guilt, the more it filled her heart. Keeping it in check was like trying to squeeze water in the palm of her hand—it dripped through her fingers and onto the floor.

  Alvarez scowled. “I won’t have any problem hating both of you.”

  “Why do you get to be so righteous about it?” Doyle asked.

  Alvarez’s face turned a deeper shade of red. “Excuse me?”

  “Do you think your grief is greater because you haven’t done anything to be ashamed of? Do you believe that you somehow have a right to suffer when others don’t—because they’ve made mistakes? Is grief any purer when the grieving are innocent?”

  Mina’s mouth hung open. She’d never really thought of Doyle as having experienced pain, but she couldn’t have put her feelings into words any better than he just had.

  Alvarez’s mouth opened, then closed. “Is that what you two think? That I don’t feel guilt?” she whispered. “Or anger? Anger that I didn’t warn my mom and sister. Anger that I’m alive and Schmidt isn’t. That I keep surviving and I don’t know why. For a while, Lincoln shared in my grief because he’d lost Mina. But then you appeared out of nowhere—helped by the enemy, no less! Don’t talk to me about guilt, because it hurts so much sometimes I can’t breathe.”

  Doyle hadn’t moved while she spoke. Behind him, Nelson stood with one foot in front of the other like he’d come up to see what the commotion was about and then stopped mid-stride to listen.

  “I know what it’s like, Alvarez,” Mina said. Her throat constricted.

  “Do you, Mina?”

  Alvarez pushed past them on her way to the stairwell.

  “Alvarez,” Doyle called.

  She stopped but didn’t turn back.

  “Who’s Schmidt?”

  “Corporal Schmidt. A hybrid killed him right after the attack on our camp. After the attack. We found his body in the ashes.”

  “I know who did it,” Doyle said.

  Alvarez turned and locked eyes with him.

  Mina and Nelson stared at him too.

  Alvarez only had eyes for Doyle. “Who?”

  “The hybrid Mina shot—Calla.”

  “And how do you know this?”

  “I was there.”

  Mina didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath. Once she did, she let it out in a big whoosh.

  Nelson rubbed his hand on the back of his neck and whispered, “Wow.”

  “The same hybrid who killed your friend is down there right now,” Doyle said, his eyes never leaving Alvarez, “at the mine, plotting something with the other rogues left on Earth. If you feel as guilty as you say you do, do something about it instead of running away.”

  Alvarez opened her mouth. Mina could see the anger flash in her eyes, about to protest that she wasn’t running away. Mina knew exactly how she felt—Doyle had an uncanny ability to get people to see things his way.

  But Alvarez was more calculating than Mina and less prone to anger. She closed her mouth.

  “Are you staying, or going?” Doyle asked.

  Alvarez just stared at him.

  “Alvarez?” Nelson asked, his voice hopeful.

  “Alright,” she said. “I’ll stay. For now.”

  Just what Doyle needed—a change in plans. But getting Alvarez to change her mind was worth the increased danger in the time spent hovering over Earth. He’d lied to her—he had killed Schmidt. With Calla standing beside him, he didn’t have a choice.

  Yes, he did. He had chosen to protect his cover. But Doyle didn’t need it any longer. Not with Calla, not with anybody. And the lie served its purpose—get the humans to cooperate. Give them the impression it was their choice.

  It was—mostly. Because if they didn’t choose to donate DNA samples, the adarria wouldn’t mark the new offspring. The adarria hadn’t told him this, but Doyle didn’t need them to.

  He told Alvarez and Nelson to stay in the bunk room, his voice terse, his annoyance showing through. He was annoyed at how fickle they were. But maybe Alvarez would feel better if she thought he didn’t like her decision.

  “Everybody prepare for landing,” he said. “I want you ready and waiting for me.”

  Nick and Li scrambled down the stairs. Alvarez and Nelson sat on bunks. Mina followed him to the cockpit.

  Doyle didn’t act too happy about Alvarez changing her mind, but since he’d been the person to convince her, Mina thought maybe he was only irritated at the wasted time.

  The Nomad changed course, hiding once again in cloud cover, this time over California. Doyle summoned the holographic globe. It spun slowly in front of Mina.

  “We need to pick a place to land.”

  “Are there any places we can’t go?” she asked.

  “Some places won’t have many Condarri. They’ll be harder to find but won’t have as much help when we go for one. Fewer witnesses.”

  “Then that’s what we need to do, right?” Mina spun the globe again and let it continue spinning on its axis. The continents rotated around. Europe and Africa, the Americas, then the Pacific. She stopped it at the Hawaiian Islands. “Will any be here?”

  “You think the Condarri are out there hanging ten on Oahu’s North Shore?”

  Mina laughed. “Throwing themselves into a volcano would be more helpful.”

  “Okay. Hawaii it is.”

  The Nomad ascended and sped west. Soon dark water replaced dark land, and they gathered speed.

  “How long?”

  “We’re already here.”

  The Nomad stopped. Mina looked through the translucent floor. Dozens of tiny specks dotted the ocean, illuminated only by the light cast by the moon.

  “Come on,” Doyle said. “Let’s get down to the hold and get our gear.” The cockpit door slid open for them.

  “How are you going to do this?” Mina asked as they walked down the corridor to the stairway at the back of the ship. They ignored Alvarez and Nelson, who watched them pass with interest.

  “Are you asking if I have a plan?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m going to use the aether. But first we have to find one alone. Shouldn’t be too hard. They don’t tend to gather unless something important is happening.”

  Mina snorted. “Kidnapping one will be extraordinary enough for them to gather, don’t you think?”

  “Yes.”

  Nick and Li waited below, armed with knives, handguns, and a rifle each. They didn’t carry anything else.

  “We’re not taking packs?” Mina asked.

  “They’ll just slow us down. Last chance to stay behind,” Doyle said as he found weapons of his own—a handgun, a rifle, and his knife. Same as always.

  Mina straightened and looked at the other hybrids. Was that anger in Li’s eye or a challenge? What exactly had Doyle told the hybrids about her relationship with him? She should have asked Doyle when they were alone. “No, I’m going.”

  “Okay. You stay with me.” He looked at the others. “We hunt until we find one that’s alone. When you do, give the signal and wait. Our best hope is the element of surprise. But if we have to, we’ll drive it somewhere and trap it. The goal is not to kill it, of course.”

  “Kill it?” asked Nick in a sharp voice. “We don’t have the power to do that even with the three of us. What are you thinking, Dar Ceylin?”

  The atmosphere chilled as Doyle sized him up. Mina thought he’d already told the hybrids he had killed a Condarri by himself. Obviously, he hadn’t, or Nick wouldn’t have looked so surprised at the suggestion.

  “I am thinking,” Doyle said, his voice even but stern, “that we can’t let it escape, regardless of what happens. If it does, we won’t get another chance for surprise. It would put the entire race of Condar on alert. And they might figure out what we’re trying to do.”

  Nick didn’t look happy, but he didn’t argue further.

  “Are you going to be able to carr
y out this mission?”

  Nick straightened and saluted Doyle. Li saluted as well. “Yes, Dar Ceylin,” they said in unison.

  Doyle nodded, and the hold door opened. The tops of trees swayed below them. Without another word, Nick and Li disappeared through the hatch. Doyle grabbed Mina and steered her around behind him. “Climb on my back for the jump.”

  “How do I talk to you through the adarre without the other hybrids hearing me?” she whispered. She wrapped her arms around his neck, legs around his waist.

  Doyle shifted his rifle to one hand so he could wrap a strong arm around her leg. “Just think about sending it to me and only me. And down here, if I tell you to run or hide, just do it without argument. I won’t have time to explain every little thing I do.”

  “Yes, Dar Ceylin.”

  Doyle grunted in annoyance and walked to the open door. The trees swayed beneath them, and the air coming up into the hold smelled like rain. Without warning, Doyle dropped out of the hatch with Mina clinging to his back.

  Chapter Seven

  Doyle had been wrong. Lincoln’s leg didn’t feel like jelly. It felt like he didn’t have a leg at all. He moved it, watching in fascination as it obeyed the signals from his brain but with no sensation of it being attached to his body. Like he was moving someone else’s leg via telekinesis. If he hadn’t been concerned with getting feeling back, he would have thought the effect funny.

  When he swung both legs over the side of the table, Carter said, “Thought you couldn’t walk?”

  Lincoln stood, putting all his weight on his left leg. The stone floor felt like ice to his bare foot. Then, gingerly, he applied some pressure to his right. His leg held up, but he had no idea how much weight it was actually bearing, considering it was completely numb. He raised it out in front of him, concentrating on placing it forward a step.

  Carter laughed. “You look like a drunk trying to walk the line.”

  Grace came out of a back room, carrying a stack of folded blankets. “You also look like you’re going to fall and bash your head on the table. Sit down, Lincoln.”

  “That table’s not exactly comfortable.”