by Kirk, A
“Perhaps,” he said, breath hot on my cheek, “I could find some way to lower your defenses. Some way to make you divulge your secrets from these very…luscious lips.” His index finger slowly traced the outline of my mouth.
The touch jolted through me. My hand convulsed around the pear so tight that juice trickled between my fingers. “Ah, I don’t have…any…”
His voice deepened. “Or perhaps I’ll simply find that your covert operation has something…”
His knuckle slipped under my chin, tipped it up. Then his warm lips touched softly on mine. Once. Twice. Oh, the delicious taste of him. His breath still sweet from the forbidden fruit.
Sparks lit up my spine, tickled the back of my neck. As I waited for the charm of a third kiss, the hand on my waist slid down, over my hip. Then it dipped lower, slipping through the curve of my back…and lower still. I held my breath, wondering how far he planned to go with this current…exploration. How far I’d let it. Because so far, it was all-systems-go and if—
“Something to do…with this.” Ayden snatched the map out of my back pocket and spun away.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“No!” I lunged, grabbing for it, but he moved easily out of my grasp.
He opened the map and held it high. I hopped vigorously, trying to snatch it, but he kept it just out of reach. He wrapped an arm around me, quelling my jack-rabbit routine, the iron grip holding our bodies together as one.
He said with amusement, “That’s better.”
Not really.
Because as he studied the paper, his expression disintegrated from amused to…seriously less than amused. By the time he glanced down at me, one could say it was downright hostile.
He spoke slowly, clearly attempting to control his emotions. “Where did you get this?”
Better than “Oh my god, you’re the Divinicus,” but not by much.
“Give it back.”
Ayden grabbed my arms and pinned me up against the wall, the paper crackling as the map crushed in his hand. His gaze held me as much as any vise. Heat was rising, swirls of warm air ruffling my hair, heightening that enticing scent of sandalwood emanating off his skin.
“Where?” Jaw muscles jumbled in knots. His voice hardened. “It was Rose, wasn’t it?” His eyes searched my face.
I cleared my throat. “Yes, but—”
He pushed away.
“You ditched me to do his bidding?” Both hands raked through his hair. “It could be a trap. Dangerous. How can you trust some stranger over…over me?”
“It’s not like that.”
“That’s exactly what it’s like.” His eyes blazed. “How could you?”
“It’s the kidnapping.” Logan came around the corner. “She’s still freaked. Doesn’t trust us.”
I shook my head. “That’s not true.” …exactly. Man, I wish I could tap dance. “It’s just that you guys have your priorities and—”
“Yes!” Ayden whirled on me. “And my priority is you!” He paused. Looked away and gripped the back of his neck. “I mean, you’re,” his arm made a wild gesture toward Logan, “our priority. Keeping you safe and…”
“Don’t worry,” Logan picked up the book I’d dropped and replaced it on the shelf. “Nissa was on watch.”
“Nissa?” I said.
“My guardian.” Logan offered me his pocket handkerchief so I could clean up from the half-squished pear. “Looks like a firefly.”
As I wiped my fingers, I remembered the flash of light, and wondered how much she’d seen.
Ayden scowled. “We agreed to keep our guardians away from Aurora.”
“Why?” I asked.
“They’re sworn to protect us,” Ayden said reluctantly. “And if they deem you a threat, they could bypass our commands and turn you in to the Mandatum.”
Peachy. Like I didn’t have enough threats over my head.
“Relax,” Logan said as he pulled out another handkerchief from inside his coat and arranged it neatly in the breast pocket of his sport coat. “She only reported Aurora’s whereabouts, then I dismissed her. When the substitute disappeared and I couldn’t find Aurora, I came here.”
I winced in anticipation of my next revelation. “The substitute…that was Rose.”
Ayden gave me a deadeye stare. “So now you’re working with him?”
“No!” Jeez this was a mess.
“She had this.” Ayden handed the map to Logan.
He nodded, and they both almost sprinted for the back of the library. In the Flint section they started checking through the books on the wall.
At the wrong end.
“Ah, screw it,” I muttered. It wasn’t like they weren’t going to find it. I climbed up the shelves and pushed books aside, uncovering the etching. They were too busy to notice. “It’s over here.”
Logan turned.
Ayden kept searching through books. “What is?”
“The drawing.” I looked closely at the spirals. As my fingers moved closer it definitely moved. Kind of pulsed darker and expanded out of wall. I waved my hand over it. Felt the heat again, and a pull, like a magnet. “It feels really weird.”
“Aurora, don’t.” Logan stepped toward me, a hand up.
We all heard a click. My palm prickled.
A blast of heat exploded from the wall. Like a zombie bursting to life from a grave, a metal hand burst through the stone.
I screamed, reeled back, and lost my footing. But I didn’t fall because the thin fingers of the skeletal robot hand grasped my wrist and forced my palm down over the spirals. My shoulder nearly pulled out of the socket as I dangled above the ground.
Suddenly there was no wall. Nothing made of stone, anyway, just a web of snaking metal that click-clacked and slithered and opened a gaping black hole in the center. My heart constricted. My free hand clawed at the monster fingers around my arm, but the metal held me trapped.
“Aurora!” Ayden sounded far away.
I turned my head. Wind blasted. The roar filled my ears. Ayden flew back. Books tumbled on top of him until he was completely buried.
I tried to go to him, but like the legs of some alien spider robot, shiny cords of metal burst from the black pit in the wall and snapped around me. The wind increased, howling and swirling into a ferocious tornado. My hair whipped across my face. The metal tentacles tightened their bonds and catapulted me into depths of darkness.
Chapter Twenty-Five
An abrupt stop. I was dropped on my feet. But between my head spinning and being surrounded by pitch black — no matter how hard I blinked for focus — I gave up the fight for balance and let my knees buckle.
My palms flattened on a floor of cool earth. A loud ca-chunking sound was followed by light. Some old Victorian-looking lamps dripped along the walls and came to life, one by one, vibrating with a low hum, a muted amber light illuminating a few yards down either side of a tunnel. The walls were neatly bricked with stone of varying shades of gray and brown. Further down, the cold and musty passageway curved out of sight.
Great, I was trapped in Flint’s tunnels with the ghosts of crazies reliving their torment. And screams of terror. How could I forget that?
Stupid Luna.
At least my arm was still attached.
I stood, slipping on small pieces of rock. Maybe broken off when I came through, but there was no more hole. I pressed my ear to the wall and slapped my hand upon it, yelling, “Ayden!”
Something grabbed my shoulder. I screamed and threw an elbow.
Logan ducked out of the way. “Easy. Just me.”
“Jeez!” I slumped. Attempted to swallow my heart back down. “Where’s Ayden?”
“Still in the library.” Logan licked his lips. “I think.”
“How did you get in here?”
“Joined the wind before the door closed.”
“What?” I remembered the wind, but no door. I rubbed my forehead. Things were still fuzzy.
Logan studied the stone wall we’
d just come through. Another double spiral was carved into the rock.
He pointed at it and said, “Touch it again.”
I flinched back. “No thanks. Once was a way bad enough idea.”
“Come on, Aurora.” Logan rubbed his hand over it. Nothing happened. “I think it’s our way back in.”
“Warning.” The woman’s voice came out of nowhere. “Mandatum infiltration. Proceed to sanctuary.”
I twirled a quick circle, but saw no one. Logan had his bow drawn, an arrow of compressed air ready to fly. His eyes glowed white in the dim yellow light.
“What is that?” I whispered. “I heard the same voice when I was stuck in the alcove.”
“Don’t know.” His voice was low and tight. “Matthias said he couldn’t find anything weird in the alcove. We’ll figure it out later. Now, since you’re not hurt,” he indicated my hand, “touch it and try to get us out of here.”
I blew air between my clenched teeth and moved a tentative hand over the spiral, ready to bolt, but…nothing. I wiggled my fingers, moved them closer. No response. I placed my palm over the etching. Slapped. Then pushed. A cool sensation breathed goosebumps up my arm.
“Warning,” the voice repeated. “Mandatum infiltration. Proceed to sanctuary.”
One of the lamps puffed smoke. A baseball-sized piece of gray metal popped out, hovering above the light. Rows of spikes clicked onto the ball’s surface, each kicking out a flame.
Then, because it wasn’t lethal enough, the orb’s surface started rotating like a mini buzz saw, and then the thing flew directly at us.
Logan’s arrow hit dead-on and shattered the orb into a burst of flame. Embers cascaded to the ground. Nice shot, except a dozen more fiery metal balls were clicking to life above the lamps along the hall and heading our way.
“Hurry, Aurora!” He kept shooting and exploding more spikey fireballs. “Before things get worse!”
“It’s not working!” I tried rubbing. Hard. The rough stone, with plenty of sharp edges, scraped and sliced my hand raw. I was bleeding, but I kept rubbing until—
Heat bubbled under my hand. I pulled away. Swallowed.
Logan shouted something, but I couldn’t hear him. I was too busy staring.
In horror.
My blood had seeped into the etching, and was flowing, in some bizarre, anti-gravity sort of way, back and forth from one end of the spiral to the other, a bright red, angry river. Oh, and that blood?
It was boiling.
A steam-rising-off, bubbling, full-blown boil.
“Warning,” the female disembodied voice intoned. “Blood contract activated.”
Logan backed into me with a sharp bump. “What happened?”
“Things just got worse.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
The floor rumbled under our feet.
“What did you do?” Logan yelped.
“I don’t know!” I ducked behind Logan as sparks flew.
The spike balls increased in number and speed. Logan kept up. Sparks, flames, flying embers. The hallway lit-up like a Fourth of July sky. The caustic smell burned my nostrils and when it hit my throat, brought a fit of coughing. I covered my mouth.
Logan’s concentration was absolute, never missing a shot.
“If I keep this up, the whole place might explode,” he said.
Contrary to popular belief, I did not like a good explosion.
I picked up the largest of the rocks that littered the ground and chucked them at the flaming metal balls.
“What are you doing?” Logan said.
“Going low-tech.”
While the rocks didn’t explode the metal fireballs, like Logan’s cool trick, my Lahey star-pitcher moves knocked several to the ground where they rolled to a stop, flames sputtering out.
“Good work,” Logan said.
“Thanks, but I’m running out of rocks and I can’t get the wall to open! What do we do?”
“I’m thinking.” Logan’s eyes flicked constantly. “Okay. Run to the opposite side of the tunnel and get down. On the count of three, I’m going to blow the wall.”
“But—”
“One.”
I bolted across and thumped into the wall. “Maybe we should rethink—”
“Two.”
Guess not. I hunched in the fetal position as Logan swung around so his back was to me.
“Three!”
He pulled the bow string taut. Not just one but six arrows appeared lined up in the bow. He let them fly all at once straight at the wall. As soon as they released, Logan’s bow disappeared in a puff of smoke. He jerked an arm up and dove toward me. A gale force wind blew straight up, acting like a shield as he dropped his body over mine.
The arrows hit with a great, thundering noise and massive shake. But instead of blowing out the wall, the force ricocheted back at us in double-time.
Logan had anticipated a blast from the explosion, and created the counter force shield of air to protect us. However, he didn’t bargain for the wall not blowing out, causing the full force of his attack coming back at us. The immense blowback slammed us so hard we literally rolled sideways up the tunnel wall, until we struck the ceiling, then flopped back down.
I fell on top of Logan who had wrapped himself around me. Sure he missed coverage by more than a few inches, but it was the thought that counted, and his body did cushion my roller-coaster ride up the wall and consequent fall. My hands over my ears had kept me from going deaf. Hopefully.
I pushed up. Dust thickened the air. Debris clinked or drifted down.
Logan wasn’t moving. Eyes closed. Face smudged with dirt.
And blood.
“Logan?” I batted away the flameless scrap metal of the spikey balls glittering amid the rubble around us and shook him, coughing on the dust and dirt coating my throat. “Logan!”
I checked my panic, then his pulse, and breathed easier. Unconscious, yes, but breathing normally, and his heartbeat th-thumped strong and steady. I convinced myself that he wasn’t any paler than usual. Seriously, how could I tell?
A low whirr ruffled my hair. Dots of flame glowed in the clouds of dusts. Another spikey ball was tearing right at us. Fast.
I scrambled in front of Logan, pinning his prone form against the wall behind us. I raised my palm, hoping my explody power would make a grand entrance, but just in case grabbed a rock to club the flying orb out of the air. It raced closer. I could see the fire glint orange-red off the spikes, waited for it to get closer so I could strike.
I swung. And missed.
Crap!
I braced for a fiery, skin-shredding impact.
Through the fog of my broken eardrums, I heard a weird hissing, but I didn’t seem to be on fire. Or getting flayed alive.
I opened one eye.
Three spikeballs hovered just out of arms reach. They had stopped inches from my hands, still flaming. I opened the other eye. I could see a patchwork of rivets beneath the spikes.
“Warning. Mandatum—”
“There is no intruder!” I shouted to the faceless wonder wench.
The spikeballs rose high, like a rearing horse ready to stomp me down. The flames went out. The spikes clicked back into the balls and they all somehow folded in on themselves until they were smooth spheres about an inch in diameter. They dropped from the air.
I caught one, of course. Stupid! Stupid!
I chucked it across the tunnel. Something thumped onto my chest.
“Ack!” I slapped the glittering globes to the ground and kicked them away. They scattered off harmlessly then all three changed course and rolled back. I got to my feet, stepped away. They followed like I was some sort of mama duck.
“Flattering, but I’ve already got an entourage,” I muttered.
I spit the grit from my mouth, kneeled, and pulled the linen handkerchief from Logan’s suit pocket to clean off the trickle of blood along his temple. Just a scratch above his brow. I felt a bump on his head, but no other visible injuries.
As I stuffed his handkerchief back in, I felt a lump inside his coat pocket. I pulled out his cell phone, but…no service.
Shocker.
The woman droned on in an annoyingly calm voice. “Breach neutralized. Sentinel in transit. Proceed to sanctuary. Await assistance.”
As the dust cleared I saw the tunnel wall was intact. Logan’s blast hadn’t made a dent in the stone. There was no escape.
A rumble. A rising hum. I braced for another attack, covered Logan. But all that followed was a series of ca-chunk, ca-chunks as the Victorian lamps turned on down one end of the tunnel, lighting as far as I could see. As if beckoning me to follow.
Then the blood from my hand, which had been boiling in the spiral, crawled up the wall like some thin red wormy serpent, and trailed down the tunnel via the ceiling. It slithered a few yards, then stopped, shimmering and swirling from side to side, but going no further.
Options? Well, the arrows hadn’t worked. At least the spikeballs had stopped. Did I just sit here and wait?
The lights along the wall flickered.
“Proceed to sanctuary.”
Obeying the bossy, disembodied voice wasn’t my first choice, But sanctuary sounded good. So did assistance. Especially for Logan.
I stood, hauling Logan onto my shoulder and shifting him to a somewhat comfortable position, hoping this sanctuary wasn’t far.
“Proceed to—”
“Yeah, I heard you,” I snapped loudly to drown out her annoying voice then picked up a rock. “And you’d better be right.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Despite Logan’s small frame, my shoulders were on fire. Despite the cold, my clothes clung with sweat. And despite my dry throat, I didn’t risk drinking the water that trickled down the walls of the tunnel as I delved deeper into the pit.
Of despair.
Okay, I was being dramatic, but there was no sign of sanctuary, and the air just kept getting heavier, mustier, and wetter. At times the tunnel opened up and a rushing stream babbled alongside the path before disappearing into the rock.