When they were free of sand, they grabbed their clothes and left the beach. Once their skin was dry, they wiped their feet and got dressed.
“I still feel like it’s all over me,” said Xander, bending over and rubbing his hands through his hair.
Deryn laughed as sand poured off of his head. “It’s going to keep showing up for the next few days. That’s the beauty of going to the beach.”
Deryn, who always had a notebook on hand, took one out of her pocket. They spent the rest of their time going over her notes on her hover-boots. She kept calling them the Talaria, stating something about the winged sandals of a Greek God she’d read about in her youth.
“The name doesn’t really flow though,” said Xander.
“And hover-boots does?” she argued.
“Better than Talaria. Who’s going to even remember that?”
“It’s the Talaria, and I’ll remember it. It’s not like I’m marketing them. They’re just for me.”
“Why not just call them blackbird boots, or something? Stick to your brand.”
“Why are you arguing with me over the name? I need help with the design.”
“Put little wings on the side.”
“Not that part of the design!”
Xander grinned. He loved to make her blood boil.
When the others got back with their gravpacks, Xander and Deryn were still fighting. They were back in the sand and he was running for his life while she scooped up handfuls and tossed them at him.
“No more fucking sand, woman!”
“Call me woman again! I dare you!” she shouted, smashing her current handful of sand into his hair.
“Is this how you flirt or should we be concerned?” asked Sam.
“Both!” they answered in unison. Deryn jumped on Xander’s back and tackled him to the ground.
“Don’t get hurt doing that. Even if you sprain your ankle I’m still making you carry back a gravpack,” said April.
Xander struggled to rise to his feet, Deryn still hanging on him like a leach. He repositioned her so she was propped over his shoulder and carried her over to the others.
“How’d it go?” he asked.
“Great. We’ll be ready to carry out the first part of our plan in three days,” said Sam.
Suddenly, the playful mood was over and Xander put Deryn down.
“Ulric, Miki and Kemp might not have three days,” said Talon. “Dax did really well tonight. We can’t try this tomorrow?”
“Rushing things is a good way to go from saving some people to saving no one. Have you even reached out to your contact yet?” asked Sam.
Talon sighed. “No. Not yet.”
“My team and I will find them tomorrow,” said Nita.
Talon agreed but he didn’t look happy about it. None of them did. Their friends were at the mercy of a psychopath who was becoming more and more unstable every day.
Deryn felt especially worried for Miki. She was a pretty girl, and Deryn knew firsthand what happened to pretty girls imprisoned in Utopia.
But Sam was right. They couldn’t rush this. No matter how much it killed them to sit back and wait.
CHAPTER 40
“Hey, Quigs! What’s taking so long?” asked Bronson from the back of the restaurant’s kitchen.
Quigley, who was staring through the small window on the door leading to the dining room, sighed and looked over his shoulder. “It’s those fucking Guardians who sat in my section. They’re taking their sweet time with a bottle of wine and Carlyle is too chicken shit to tell them to leave. Some manager.”
Bronson looked at his watch. “Well, our favorite houseguests will be home soon and I don’t want them climbing up the drainpipe with all the extra cameras being posted everywhere.”
“Why’d they go out again?” asked Quigley.
Bronson shrugged. “They were meeting that Guardian friend of theirs at some crowded bar to see if she has any more information on ...” He stopped and sighed. “You know.”
Quigley frowned and nodded. “Just go.” He turned back to the door and stared through the small window at the two Guardians slowly sipping their wine. “It’s not like they can keep me here past curfew.”
“You sure?” asked Bronson. “Because I really have no problem making them wait. It was their idiot move to go out anyway.”
“You’d go out if it was Luka asking,” said Quigley.
Bronson flinched. Of course it was true. All day long he’d been staring into alleys and hoping Luka would be there, ready to run for it. But he never was.
“It’s really fine. You’re right, we shouldn’t let them climb the drainpipe. Not when they’re exiled children of Guardians.”
The hostess, Jenna, walked by as he said this. She stopped and cocked an eyebrow. “You two have some really sketchy friends. I like it.” Jenna grinned and went to the backdoor. She pushed it open, turned and pressed her back against it. “You still coming to my place tonight?” she asked Quigley.
“Nah, can’t tonight,” he answered. “Thursday?”
“Yeah, whatever. Make me wait for it.” Jenna winked and exited.
“I thought you two called it quits months ago,” said Bronson as soon as she was gone.
“Yeah, well, when you’re stuck in a city as secluded as Utopia, you’re kinda forced to repeat the same mistakes. She may be mental but at least she’s fun.”
“Ah, a philosophy to live by! Brilliant, Quigs! Just brilliant!”
“Oh, just piss off already, will you?”
Bronson smirked. “Fine, fine. I’ll see you at home.” On his way to the door, Bronson grabbed a bottle of wine. “Going to need this to get through yet another night with Mr. and Mrs. Can’t Keep it in Their Bloody Pants.”
Quigley laughed. “Do you think Chace’s presence will stop them?”
“Doubtful,” said Bronson as he walked out the backdoor.
It was another twenty minutes before the Guardians finally left. Quigley had to lock up, since the manager had given up on doing any actual management that night. Once that was done, and in record time, he ran out the door.
The moment he was outside, the cool night air hit him and he hugged himself. He’d forgotten his coat earlier and was really regretting it in this cold weather.
Even while running at full speed, Quigley was unable to make it to the tram stop before it took off. He tried to wave it down but it was too late. That was the last tram of the night.
“Shit!” he shouted as he kicked the gravel. Only twenty minutes until midnight, and he lived a good two and a half miles away.
Quigley heard some shuffling behind him and glanced over his shoulder. Two people in dark coats were walking in his direction. Something about them didn’t sit right with him. He quickly headed in the opposite direction, determined to get home no matter how fast he had to run.
He’d barely gone a block when someone else walked into his view. This person was closer and he immediately recognized the dark-blue Guardian trench coats they were wearing. He diverted his path.
After running through an alley, he came out on a new block, but stopped when two more people were standing directly in front of him. The same two as before. How had they moved so fast?
Quigley turned, but another Guardian was directly behind him. He jumped.
“Shit, you scared me!” he said, trying to act like everything was normal. But everything wasn’t normal. Something was off. These Guardians were there for a reason, and he was pretty certain that reason was him.
The one directly in front of him didn’t say anything, but pulled back their hood to reveal the face of a woman with foggy green eyes. Quigley immediately recognized her as Elvira, the president’s twisted daughter.
She looked paler than usual and her movement was a bit wobbly, but she was still frightening.
“No coat tonight, boy?” A strange hand grasped Quigley’s shoulder. He turned and came face-to-face with Luka’s father.
“Take mine,” said a
deep voice, even colder than the air around him.
Quigley’s heart stopped.
There, just behind Luka’s father, was President Saevus.
Quigley stood frozen as the terrifying man took off his coat and positioned it on Quigley’s shoulders. More than anything, he wanted to tear the thing off of him and toss it in the president’s face, but he fought the impulse. It smelled like him too, sandalwood and brandy and far too much cologne.
“It is terribly close to curfew. Would you like a ride?”
Saevus motioned to his hover-car parked against the curb. The door opened and Quigley was shoved into the dark void.
The moment Quigley was inside the car, he understood what this was all about. His gaze fell upon the bruised girl sitting at the end of the row of seats across from him, her eyes cast shamefully downwards as the man beside her stroked her knee.
Quigley knew that man. Soren Tash, Elvira’s husband and the owner of ...
Quigley glared at him, unable to hide his hatred.
The beaten girl whimpered as Quigley was forced into a seat between the president and Barath Voclain. Elvira came in last and sat beside Soren.
“Have you met my husband?” she asked, grabbing Soren’s arm. “Ignore his disfigurement.” She ran a single finger across the scar on his throat. “Some filthy piece of toxic trash did that to him.” She smiled. A horrible, eerie smile that sent chills from the back of Quigley’s neck all the way down to his toes.
“And this is his personal slave,” said Saevus, motioning to the beaten girl. “What did you say your name was again?”
The girl closed her eyes and sniveled. Her mouth barely moved.
“Speak up, slave!” spat Soren, raising his hand to strike her.
Quigley was about to leap forward and stop him. But, before he could, she opened her eyes and shouted, “Fiona! My name is Fiona!”
“And your surname, dear?” asked Elvira as she leaned over her husband’s legs.
Fiona whimpered again. She finally found the courage to look at Quigley and mouthed the words, “I’m sorry.”
“No, I don’t think that’s it,” said Elvira. She pointed her Element at Fiona’s head. “Say it.”
Fiona looked sadly at her brother. “Quigley. My name is Fiona Quigley.”
“Very good,” said Elvira. “You may pleasure my husband as a reward for your obedience.”
Fiona’s eyes widened. “What?”
Elvira started undoing Soren’s pants while he grabbed Fiona’s head and pushed it downward.
“No!” Fiona shouted as Elvira’s hand slipped into the opening. “No! No! No!” She jerked her head back against his hand. Soren released it and she smacked her head hard against the window, causing it to crack.
“It seems she does have a sense of humility,” said Soren in a raspy voice after checking her head. His fingertips came away covered in blood. “Any other guest and she would have been happy to do it.”
“Mason Quigley, you can see why we might have a problem,” said Saevus, staring across the carriage at Fiona.
She was shaking as she stared at the blood on Soren’s fingers from her wounded head.
“You have lied to me and my Guardians for years, pretending to be something you’re not. When, in fact, you are just another toxic Outsider. No better than that siren who has stolen one of my top servants.” Saevus took a deep, rattling breath. “But there is a way we can mend this, you and me. As you can see, I have something you want.”
Saevus reached across the car and ran his fingers through Fiona’s hair. Her lips quivered.
“And you have something I want.”
“What do I have that you want?” asked Quigley, somehow managing to keep his voice steady. One wrong word was all it took.
“Information,” answered Saevus. “On Xander Ruby and the Leon girl. You know where they are.”
“No,” said Quigley, shaking his head. “I don’t. I swear -”
“But you can find out,” said Barath. “And we would like you to do just that.”
“No, I can’t!” insisted Quigley. “I don’t know where he is! He just disappeared from upstairs one day! I swear that’s all I -”
The car came to a rough stop.
“We’re here!” announced Elvira, opening the door and heading out first.
The others all followed, Barath pulling Quigley while Soren dragged Fiona.
Once outside, Quigley noticed they were in front of his building.
“Before we part, Mason, I would like to remind you of the power I hold here.” The president raised his hand high and waved someone forward.
A Guardian Quigley didn’t recognize stepped out of the shadows, pushing someone who was bound with a black bag over their head. They pulled it off and Quigley gasped.
“Jenna!”
“Mason, what’s going on?” cried Jenna. “I don’t -”
In a movement too swift for even Quigley’s eyes, Elvira lifted her Element and fired.
Jenna’s eyes widened as a bolt of electricity jerked through her. And then she was falling, her eyes lifeless as she hit the cold, hard ground. Fiona screamed and tried to cover her eyes, but Soren forced her to keep staring at the dead girl on the street, whispering something in her ear that made her stop struggling.
“So much for Thursday,” said Elvira with a chuckle.
“Everyone, back in the car,” ordered Saevus.
Soren dragged Fiona away first. Quigley tried to grab her, but the president stepped in his way. “Just remember, Mason. I made it quick for this girl. I won’t be as generous with your sister. You have two days to get me the information I need. You know what will happen if you fail.”
Fiona screamed her brother’s name as she was thrown into the hover-car.
The Guardian who’d been holding Jenna picked up her body and threw it over his shoulder. As he passed Quigley, he said, “Say hello to my daughter Odette for me, will you?” He winked before sliding into the hover-car, Jenna’s lifeless arms dangling over his back.
Quigley didn’t wait for the car to drive away before running inside. He darted up the stairs, threw open the door to his apartment -
“Hey, Quigs! About time you got -”
- headed straight into his bedroom, then slammed and locked the door.
“Quigs?”
Bronson knocked on his door but Quigley ignored him.
Alone and in the quiet, he suddenly realized he was still wearing Saevus’s damn coat. He tore it off and threw it into the corner, swearing that he’d burn it later.
Quigley opened his window and breathed in the damp, cold air, letting it fill his lungs. He took out his pack of cigarettes. Only one left. As he hurried to light it, his quivering lips accidentally dropped it. The cigarette plummeted toward the ground.
“Quigs?”
Quigley whipped around. Bronson was standing in his doorway. “I locked the door for a fucking reason!” he shouted.
“I know,” said Bronson, taking his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and offering it to him. There was only one left.
Quigley hesitated for a moment before taking it.
Bronson tossed the empty box into his trashcan. “Is there something you want to talk about?”
“No!” snapped Quigley.
“You know I know when you’re lying.”
Quigley closed his eyes. “Please, just go.”
“Okay,” said Bronson, half-turning toward the door. “But we’re going to talk about this in the morning. And don’t you dare drop that last cigarette! That’s fucking gold and you need to savor it!”
Quigley smiled halfheartedly. “Thanks.”
Bronson nodded again and left, leaving Quigley alone with his thoughts.
There was no winning this.
He would either have to lose his sister or betray his friends. No matter what, he was fucked.
CHAPTER 41
“Hello, hello, doll.”
Nita cringed as she heard Sewick’s voice
on the other end of her old two-way. Lord knew why she’d kept the thing, but she had and this was necessary.
“Save the flattery. You know why I’m contacting you.”
Deryn looked up from working on her boots and silently mouthed, “Be nice.”
Chelsea and Danny both laughed from their work tables, like the idea of her being nice was funny, or something. Nita sneered and gave them both the finger.
“How did I find your little treehouse?”
“And why the hell did you think it was a good idea to bring Soren Tash here?”
“Soren’s harmless, like all fools in love.” Sewick sniggered. “Saevus ordered me to find your base a year ago. I found it, I lied and took a beating for my failure, and I kept the information for myself. It still baffles me that he hasn’t thought to just look up.”
“You took a great risk -”
“Come on, doll. You know I wouldn’t’ve brought him if he was any threat to you. I always have your best interest at heart. Well ... my best interest. I’m waiting for the day you finally realize Talon Leon can never give you what I can.”
Nita gagged and pretended to vomit in the trashcan. Everyone laughed.
“Do you really think that’s true?” she asked in a playful tone. “I’m not going to lie, Sewick, our sex was good. But I wanted something more than that, something deeper and you were never going to give me that.”
“Things have changed,” he said simply.
Nita looked at Deryn and rolled her eyes. The only thing that had changed was his desire to take back something he deemed stolen.
“I guess we’ll see if that’s true soon enough. I’ll keep this line open. Contact me when Soren’s ready to deliver his slave.”
“And if I ever want to contact you just for the hell of it?”
“Then you best do it during the day when Talon’s not with me. Otherwise, you might find a bullet through your head the next time you come around.”
“Will do, doll. And remember, my place is always open to you if you come back to the city. Your code hasn’t changed.”
“Goodbye, Sewick,” said Nita, forcing more of that playfulness into her voice. She turned off the two-way. “I feel dirty. Do I have time for a shower?”
Arise (Cruel and Beautiful World Book 3) Page 40