Cloak and Daggers (Order of Prometheus Book 2)

by Katerina Martinez

  I stared at the ID badge again. The name field read Isabella Banks. She was five-foot six, had tawny skin, pretty brown eyes, and full pink lips, but as was customary for all office photos, she looked like she hadn’t smiled in twenty years, even if the reverse was true. I had a badge just like this one once, and I looked just as much a plane Jane as this girl did in hers.

  I sighed. “You’re right,” I said. “I’m sorry. Just, is there a reason why all three of us need to go? Surely one of us getting in and out would be easier, right?”

  Charles shook his head. “What if you’re injured or discovered? What if you need backup?”

  “If I’m discovered, I’m dead.”

  “Perhaps, but having Abel and Jamie nearby means we could quickly mount a rescue mission, or a counter offensive. Besides, three is the right number of people for this mission.”

  “Why three?” I asked.

  “Have you ever heard of the magic numbers?”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  “Mages have long since held to the belief that certain numbers are more magically charged than others. Like the number thirteen, for example—unlucky for some. The number seven, universally lucky, and so on.”

  “Three is a magic number, too?”

  “It isn’t just a magic number—it’s the magic number. The most important one. Three is stronger than one, or two, and less cumbersome than seven. Since we’ve grown to rely heavily on Spider’s technical expertise, and you would never have agreed to bring Aisha with you, we’re sending the three of you. Call me a superstitious old fool if you like.”

  I had, once upon a time, heard about the numbers of power. I hadn’t read about them in a book, nor had I been told about them by some mage who thought they knew everything there was to know about the universe. Not that I thought this about Charles, but he really did like to let on like he had all the answers, didn’t he?

  No, I had heard about the numbers of power—specifically about the importance of the number three—from a witch who liked to call on them when doing magic. Not a female mage, but an honest-to-God witch. There’s a difference, or at least that’s what she had told me during our brief exchange of words before cursing me with blindness and escaping. That had been my first and only encounter with a witch. She was one of the only people to ever get away from me.

  “Look, it’s not like I think Jamie is going to be a liability here,” I said, “but we’ve already put him through breaking into Faction HQ once. I don’t want to put him through that again. If he gets caught—”

  “I’ll get it worse than you will because I’m with the Order?” he asked. “Because you’re with the Order too. You actually defected. It’ll be bad for all of us if we get caught, but we’re stronger as a team.”

  Abel breathed deep, then exhaled. “I’m usually not inclined to agree, but I’m with Jamie on this. We could use his help.”

  “Fine,” I said. “So, we all go. When?”

  “As soon as you’re ready,” Charles said. “The sooner we can find a way out of the shield, the better. This bunker was never meant to be used as a permanent place of residence for the Order of Prometheus. Our stocks won’t last more than a couple of weeks, our facilities are limited, and no one is going to enjoy living in a cramped environment for too long.”

  I nodded. “Alright, then we’ll leave when the work day starts. Sound good?”

  Jamie and Abel agreed, an hour was fine.

  I turned to look at Charles. “What happens to these people after we’re done with our mission?”

  “Well, they’re sedated now, and they’re safe. They’ll wake up with headaches, but will have no recollection of what happened.”

  “We could take them with us, couldn’t we?” Jamie asked. “Help them defect?”

  Charles shook his head. “If they had wanted to come with us voluntarily, they would have come forward when Kim and Daliah did. To take them away from their lives without their consent would be akin to kidnapping, and while we’ve technically kidnapped them now, they will be going back to their own lives without even knowing they were gone.”

  “At least until they get to work the next day,” Abel said, “and they find out we turned their careers upside down.”

  “So, be discreet.”

  With that, we were dismissed, and I made my way out of Charles’ office and to my quarters where Aisha was waiting. I told her we were leaving, and then asked her to do something for me.

  “You want me to what?” she asked.

  “I want you to keep an eye on the new girls.”

  “But… why?”

  “Because. I’m not saying they were involved in what happened yesterday, but Charles is about to send three of his best agents out, leaving this place pretty vulnerable to an attack.”

  “You really think someone’s going to attack us after what happened yesterday? The Faction’s probably still licking its wounds.”

  “Maybe, but I’m not going to rule it out. I’m also not going to rule out the possibility that someone in the Order is leaking information to the Faction, and now that we’re stuck in such close quarters, he or she may just try and do something from the inside without the Faction’s help.”

  “That would be really stupid. You, Abel, and Jamie are leaving, but Charles will be here, and from what you’ve told me he’s a pretty badass mage. I’m here, too.”

  “Exactly, and that’s why I want to make sure you’ve got eyes on the new girls. Just in case.”

  Aisha nodded. “Okay, fine—I will.”

  “Good,” I headed for the door, opened it, and looked back. “Hold the fort for me, okay?”

  Aisha nodded. “Get back soon.”

  “I will.”

  I left the room, shutting the door behind myself, and proceeded to the main hangar where I would find Abel and Jamie waiting for me. Spider had the Avenging Ace’s engines primed and ready to go while Abel and Jamie swapped words on the landing pad. When they saw me approach, they turned to face me.

  “You aren’t in your disguises yet,” I said, making sure my voice rose over the sound of the whirring turbines. “Any reason for that?”

  “I thought we could use the magic together,” Abel said. “More chance that it’ll work properly.”

  “Might make the magic less uncomfortable to hold, too,” Jamie said. “We don’t know how long we’re going to be under for.”

  Abel held his hand out. Jamie did the same. I took their hands and stood close to both men. They clasped hands as well, closing the circle. Almost immediately, something passed between us. It was like an electric current, but not one strong enough to create a spark or a jolt—more like a constant vibration.

  I concentrated, called my magic to manifest, and my hands began to glow with soft, blue light. Jamie’s lit up too, red-orange. Finally, Abel’s hands radiated with their inner, violet light. I shut my eyes and recalled every single physical detail I could about Isabella Banks, including her name, making sure the image was as firmly embedded into my psyche as I could. I then imagined a cloud of energy slipping out of my chest and then wrapping itself around me, starting with my arms, then my chest, my face, my abdomen, my legs. A cool breeze came, and when I opened my eyes, I didn’t recognize the men whose hands I was holding.

  Jamie’s skin had darkened to brown, his hair had turned short, thick, and black, and his eyes were brown and deep. A member of the Order rushed up to where we stood and delivered clothes for Jamie to wear—a hoody and a pair of jeans—that his sedated counterpart had been wearing. His name was now Sunny, though it was spelled Sunni. I would have to remember that.

  Abel, likewise, had undergone a dramatic change. He wasn’t nearly as tall as he had been a moment ago, having lost almost a full foot of height. His skin was lighter, pale, but he had some bulk to him. He was also given new clothes—a leather jacket to wear over a black band t-shirt and dark jeans. His name was Trent, and a kind of strange coldness washed through me. I knew Trent; I’d worked with him
before. How had he let himself get captured by the Order?

  Finally, I was given the clothes Isabella had been wearing—a light gray pencil skirt and blazer set with a white long-sleeve button-up blouse, and uncomfortable black heels. I was given some privacy to change, and was presented with a mirror so that I could check myself out. I almost couldn’t believe how uncanny the disguise was. I didn’t look like myself at all. I was Isabella now, and the best part was, the disguise wasn’t itchy at all.

  “Alright,” I said. “Let’s get this show on the road, huh?”

  CHAPTER TEN

  I had passed the first test; my ID badge had worked at the main gate to Faction HQ, and I was in. The security guard at the gate had waved at me, one hand on his coffee cup. At reception, Donna—who I knew only because I used to walk through those doors all the time—greeted me with a polite hello as I went past, heading straight for the elevators.

  My heart was racing, but I did everything I could to keep my own emotions in check as I walked along the brightly lit, marble entry hall. I almost had a hard time adjusting to the brightness in the lobby. It was disorienting, and it was also done on purpose. The walls were white, and the space was sparsely furnished to create the illusion of grandeur, making it appear larger and more intimidating than it really was.

  But that was the Faction, wasn’t it? This place summed them up quite well. Large and imposing, but hollow and empty inside; it was devoid of the things that made us human—or mages. As I approached the elevator, I found myself feeling sad, almost guilty, for the people who worked here without having a clue what the Faction really did. They were helpless, blind, and completely unaware of what was about to happen to them.

  I pressed the button for the elevator and waited, taking a deep breath to calm my nerves. In the doors’ reflection I saw a man come up behind me. He was wearing a suit and had a Faction ID hung around his neck. His face seemed familiar, but I couldn’t quite pin him down before the elevator doors opened and split his reflection in half.

  I took a step inside, trying to place the guy, and hit the button for the fifth floor just as he stepped through the doors. They shut and the elevator started moving when I felt the son of a bitch grab my ass. Rage bubbled through me, and I spun around on my heel and glared at him. He put his hands up, smiled, and went to speak—probably to say something sarcastic, or witty, or to ask for my forgiveness despite not really giving a shit whether I gave it to him or not. Instead of saying a word, I punched the guy square in the throat, causing him to start hacking.

  The guy grabbed his throat, backed into a corner, and stretched his other hand out to fend me off. His face had gone red, his eyes teary, and he sounded like he was having trouble saying whatever it was he wanted to say, so I decided to throw him a bone. I approached. He retreated further, putting his hand up with even more conviction.

  “If you so much as look at me again,” I said, a low growl to my voice, “I’m going to take your balls home as a trophy. Understood?”

  He nodded repeatedly, though he was still having trouble forming words. All he could do was hack, and heave, and choke nonsensical syllables out.

  That would do me.

  The elevator dinged, and the doors opened. I stepped out onto my—Isabella’s—floor and looked around the office. Behind me, the elevator doors slowly shut, and it started on its journey to whatever floor it would be taking the handsy asshole. I found myself wondering if Isabella would have done that to him. I had no idea who she really was, or what her character was like. For all I knew, those two had been having sex one day, and then she throat-punched him the next. I made a mental note to be careful as I pushed deeper into the office.

  There were cubicles everywhere. On the far end of the room, a large window ran across the length of the office, bathing the entire space with even more light. The carpets here were charcoal gray. Square, marble columns rose from the floor to the ceiling at different points in the room. People moved around, every last one of them wearing clothes fit for a professional office environment. Phones bleeped, people held casual morning conversations, and around me the smell of coffee and air conditioning were prevalent.

  This was a side of the Faction I had never seen: the pencil-pushing side. I had no place here, clearly. I was a hunter, not a desk-jockey, but I had to play the part and blend in. Luckily, choosing to show up a few minutes past nine meant by the time I got into the office, most of the workers were at their desks, checking emails and sipping their coffee, which made it easy to find my desk, or rather, Isabella’s.

  Her cubicle was like all the others, a gray cubicle with enough room to fit a desk, a computer, a filing cabinet, and even a small locker tucked in beside the filing cabinet. I stepped up to the computer and tapped the screen. When it flicked on, an image of Isabella flashed up. Screensaver. She was lying on a bed, laughing as a cat licked at her face.

  I took a breath, sat down at the chair, and prepared myself to log in to the system using Isabella’s credentials. If I didn’t enter the password correctly, I would be drawing all manner of negative attention to myself.

  “Bella,” a fond voice said in a tone suggesting friendliness. “I didn’t see you come in.”

  Looking up, I saw a woman, maybe in her forties, standing at the entrance to my cubicle. Her eyes were sharp, the apples of her cheeks were bright, but she had dark circles under her brown eyes. Her already graying hair was a little frazzled, and she looked like she hadn’t gotten much sleep.

  She, I did recognize thanks to the Order’s intelligence gathering mission. Her name was Margo, and she was Isabella’s boss.

  “Hey,” I said, pretending like Margo hadn’t just scared the shit out of me with her surprise, drop-in kind of entrance. “H-how are you, Margo? Everything okay?”

  “Oh, God. That obvious, huh?” She tried to check her reflection out on the marble column, but didn’t seem to be getting much luck. “That asshole—there’s five years of my life I won’t get back.”

  “Did, uh, something happen?”

  She stared as if I’d just asked her to tell me her age. “You’re kidding, right?”

  There was a pause, and I didn’t know what to say to fill it, so I hesitated and said nothing. Instead I just tilted my head, making it look like I was listening, or was prepared to listen, fully aware that I was on the verge of messing this up after I’d only been in the building for twenty minutes.

  “Nick,” she said. “He’s cheating on me?”

  “Oh, right! Sorry, I thought something else had happened.”

  “It did! Last night I found sexy messages from another girl on his phone. He thinks I don’t know what’s up,” she tapped her nose, “but I’ve got eyes everywhere. I saw him. Bastard thinks he can get away with this.”

  “Wow, I’m so… that asshole. I can’t believe he’s doing that to you after all the years you’ve been together.”

  “Yeah, and of course it’s some twenty something hard-body trainer girl he met at the gym. I swear, if I’d known this was going to happen I never would have encouraged him to go to the gym and lose some weight.”

  I sighed deeply and shook my head. This kind of social interaction wasn’t something I was exactly used to. Relationships, cheating—they just weren’t problems that popped up in my life. Targets, pursuits, magic—that was my life. This was… boring and uninteresting. I mean, I felt for her, sure, but I was just so mentally checked out of the conversation, I didn’t know what to say next, so again, I said nothing.

  “Anyway,” Margo said, “don’t forget today is review day. We need to go back over last week’s records, check them for errors, and file them in the right place. Not exactly the most pleasant of jobs, but someone has to do it, and that someone happens to be you.”

  “Where are the records I need to look at?”

  Margo narrowed her eyes. “Where are the… are you alright? You seem a little off. You getting sick?”

  “Sick?” I pretended to check my temperature. “No, I d
on’t think so. I just had a rough night, that’s all. A cup of coffee and a walk will do me.”

  “Alright… well, you go and do that. If you need anything, come and see me. But if you’re sick, I don’t want you staying here today. Understood?”

  “Yeah, sure, thanks.”

  “No problem.”

  I stood from my chair and moved out of the cubicle just as Margo headed toward her office. My chest was tightening, and my windpipe was threatening to close. It was almost as if I had been hit with a bout of claustrophobia, similar to what I had felt down in the sewers. The wide, open layout and brightly lit room was somehow making things worse.

  One thing was certain; there was no way in hell I was doing those reports.

  I hadn’t stolen into Faction HQ to do someone else’s mundane job. I had come here to gather intelligence on the barrier surrounding the city, keeping the—supposed—harsh world outside and making sure everyone who lived in New Seattle stayed inside.

  Leaving the office helped me find some kind of balance, some equilibrium, and allowed my chest to relax. When I was in the hall, I decided to act like I was heading for the kitchen, but instead continued further, passing a room labelled Archives. That was a logical place to start, considering what I was looking for was information, but I didn’t know if Jamie and Abel had made it into the building okay.

  At the end of the hall, I pushed my way into the stairwell and climbed another two floors where I would be able to enter the Research and Development—R&D—and Engineering departments. That was where Jamie would be, assuming he hadn’t been caught on the way in. Since no general alarm had been sounded, I was willing to bank on his having successfully infiltrated the building, Abel too.

  Now the only question was, could we keep the illusion up without drawing attention to ourselves? Having come close to failing twice already, I didn’t think I was up to the challenge, but I had to try. There was too much riding on this mission for me to fail it thanks to an inability to play nice.