Siege of Shadows

by Sarah Raughley

  I looked at his large hand trembling at his side and thought back to all those painful days I spent buckling under the weight of a destiny I never asked for. Thrown into the chaos of a battle I didn’t know how to fight. No uncle, no home.

  “But you were always there.” I gazed up at him. “Even when you didn’t have to be. You were there for me.”

  And if I knew the truth, and it was what I feared, then he wouldn’t be anymore.

  “Maia . . .”

  “I don’t know what to do,” I admitted with a helpless shrug. “I’m scared to do anything. I’m scared of what could happen. What . . . what should I do, Rhys?”

  A shiver went through me as he touched the side of my face, lightly, in that vulnerable space just below my ear, his fingers brushing up against my thick curls. And as his fingers lingered there, I held my breath.

  The door creaked. Rhys’s hand dropped from my neck as Blackwell entered the study. His mild surprise gave way to amusement as he saw us standing behind his desk. He’d be more amused to find the security guard trapped in the closet. Poor Crane.

  “Far be it from me to get in the way of a secret tryst between two lovers, but . . .”

  My teeth glued shut as Blackwell’s gaze trickled down to the book on the desk he’d left empty. Pressing my bag protectively against my hip, I started thinking up excuses.

  “Sorry, I took her down here,” Rhys said. “We needed a place to be alone.”

  My breath hitched as Rhys wrapped a strong arm around my waist and pulled me to his side, almost possessively. I was assuming that was supposed to be code for “a place to make out.” Which we kind of had. Rhys really made sure to sell it too, his body curving toward me, his hand hard against my hip. I was definitely selling it with the way my face flushed and my head shyly dipped. Though that wasn’t an act.

  “Aidan, what would your father think?” Blackwell folded his arms and stepped slowly toward us. “It’s not like you to do such things. Especially when you’re here on duty.”

  “Not my fault your party’s boring.”

  “Sorry, we won’t do it again.” Grabbing his wrist, I pulled him away from the desk. “We’re going now.”

  Blackwell’s eyes never left me as I scurried out of his study with Rhys in tow.

  • • •

  “Are you okay?” Rhys asked once we were back upstairs in the hallway with the other patrons. Probably because I was tugging at the stupid band around my itching neck.

  “Yeah, sorry. Hey, do you think you can you get me out of here?”

  Blackwell was going to find Crane in the closet tucked underneath all his smoking jackets. If he didn’t, someone else would. I didn’t have an excuse for that. “Like, can you drive me back to the facility?”

  It didn’t take Rhys more than a second to surmise the situation. Without asking questions, he nodded. “We can take my brother’s car. Just stay here while I get his keys.”

  He disappeared back into the reception hall. I waited in a corner, avoiding the stares of the patrons in their little circles, peering over one another’s shoulders to make sure it was me before whispering to each other. Really. For a bunch of high-powered politicians and businesspeople, the way they conducted themselves was startlingly similar to the kind of stuff I saw at Ashford’s last school dance.

  “Ms. Finley,” a reporter said, walking up to me. Damn it. I should have waited outside. “I’m Jonathan Headey from the Sun. Do you have a minute for a quick interview?”

  “Well, I—”

  “Sorry, but we’d like Ms. Finley to come with us.”

  The security guard had spoken politely enough, despite his intimidating frame, but his partner had shoved the reporter aside rather roughly.

  Crane’s revenge. Blackwell had found me out. I was done for.

  One grabbed my arm and pulled me along, though I shot one last frantic look toward the reception hall. I didn’t suppose I could just set him on fire without anybody noticing.

  “Blackwell sent you, right?” I asked as we squeezed through dignitaries. “Hey, stop!” I pulled myself out of his grip and stopped in my tracks. “I asked you a question.”

  “Blackwell didn’t send us,” said the taller one.

  It was hard to gather anything from either of their faces since both guards were wearing shades.

  “Then what’s this about?”

  “It’s Mrs. Prince,” one said. “The director’s wife would like to see you inside Mr. Blackwell’s office. It’s an urgent matter. Please come with us.”

  Rhys’s mom? Curious, I followed them through the corridors until the patrons and reporters thinned out and we were standing alone outside a lonely door at the end of a hall.

  My phone vibrated against my hip. It was Rhys.

  “Miss,” a guard said before I could answer it, putting his hand on my phone. “If you please? We’re here. This really is urgent.”

  I looked at the two men towering above me and wondered how much effort it would take to knock them both out if this turned out to be some kind of trap. If Blackwell really was waiting to try something behind the doors, I knew I could take him easily, but he wouldn’t be stupid enough to try with all the people running around the house.

  Discreetly, I answered the call, but only after I’d placed my phone back in my bag. “So this is Blackwell’s office in the east wing?” I spoke loudly enough for Rhys to hear, but restrained myself so I still sounded natural. “Mrs. Prince is really waiting for me in here? Are you guys sure?”

  “Yes,” one replied after an annoyed grunt.

  I slipped my hand back out without turning my phone off, leaving my bag slightly open so it could pick up any surrounding sound. It was a precaution—one they didn’t notice.

  The shorter security guard knocked on the door. “Ma’am, she’s arrived.”

  “Maia?”

  I heard the woman’s voice call for me through the door, but something was wrong. It was less a call than a whimper, a pleading question suddenly muffled into silence.

  Whipping around to glare at the security agents, I burst inside the room. Mrs. Prince was inside Blackwell’s darkly lit office, standing behind the large wooden desk that shimmered in the moonlight streaming from the grand, arched window behind it.

  And next to her was the tiny red-haired server girl I’d bumped into earlier, holding a gun to Mrs. Prince’s temple. With her other hand, she held a finger to her lips.

  “We’re going to do this quietly, sweetie,” she said in an accent she hadn’t had before. Australian. This voice I recognized. “Or you’ll see Mrs. Naomi’s brains splattered across all this fine furniture.”

  18

  NAOMI. NATALYA’S NAOMI? I LOOKED at the woman, who was deathly still, though her eyes screamed for help.

  A rough push from one of the security guards sent me stumbling farther inside the room. The other shut and locked the door behind him with a soft click. Quickly, I lifted my arms, feeling the heat rush through them.

  “Nuh-uh-uh! Hands down.” The server waved her finger at me. “No powers. Neither of us wants things to get messy here.”

  “Jessie, right?” I said. She looked completely different from the picture I’d seen on the screen, but I couldn’t forget that mocking, singsong tone.

  “Ooh? Did Aidan tell you about me? I’m touched that he remembers me.”

  “Aidan,” Naomi hissed quickly. “Tell Aidan—”

  Jessie’s hand covered the woman’s mouth. “Qui-et, please.”

  Discreetly, I lowered my gaze, checking my bag to make sure it was still open, picking up the sound.

  “Jessie Stone, right?” I repeated as loudly as I could without arousing suspicion. “Yeah, I saw your picture once. Kind of a different girl when you were thirteen.”

  “I got a little work done in my off time. Wanted to look pretty for my big comeback, you know. I haven’t seen Aidan in so long.” She leaned in, pressing her gun closer to her victim’s temple. “What else did he tell yo
u about me?”

  “That you’re a psychopath.”

  “Really?”

  “No, but I can gather. Otherwise, why would you have a gun to his mother’s head?”

  I shifted slightly, feeling my open bag swivel against my hips as Jessie giggled. “You talk tough. Ain’t too bright, though.” Her wild eyes traced a path down my face to my neck before rubbing the back of her own.

  The security guards stood almost perfectly still, like soldiers waiting for orders. “Jessie, it’s getting late, and they still haven’t called,” one said. “He should be out by now.”

  “Yeah, I know that, Anderson. Damn it,” she cursed, glaring at her pants pocket. “What the hell is the holdup?”

  “What exactly do you want from me?” I gripped the bag’s chain around my shoulder. My feet itched to launch me forward, but Jessie’s finger was too firmly on the trigger of her gun. “Just let Mrs. Prince go!”

  “Can’t do that. She’s my insurance. See, you’re supposed to come with us—me and Vasily, I mean. We’re takin’ you to Saul.”

  Back when they’d ambushed us the first time in the tunnels, Jessie had tried to get that giant monstrosity to capture me too—no, it wasn’t a monstrosity. It was a person. Or it used to be. Alex. I felt a slight chill shudder through my bones.

  “Even with the ring, he’s very busy, you know. Prepping for something hella big. Can’t do everything himself. There’s a plan in place. It’s all about the timing, see? Now it’s time for you to come with us.”

  “The problem with that plan,” I said, my voice shaking, “is that Vasily’s still in jail, currently being tortured by a crazy guy dressed like a doctor.”

  Jessie sighed. “Seems like. I thought I’d get confirmation by now. Once I did, it’d be easier to take you out of here.”

  “Confirmation of what?”

  Jessie only shrugged. “But since I haven’t heard anything, I’m taking matters into my own hands.” She cocked the gun. “Now come with me. Very quiet. Or we’ll both have fun watching Mommy’s gray matter fly.”

  Rhys’s mother gasped against Jessie’s hand as the girl pushed the gun hard against her skull. Jessie’s eyes were alight with joy and malice.

  My trembling fingers curled around my dress. “You wouldn’t.”

  The shot was muted thanks to the silencer on the barrel. I was frozen, my mind still working out what had happened, when one of the security guards behind me crumpled to the ground. The other guard looked horrified enough to retch as Jessie rather innocently shrugged and placed the gun back on Naomi’s temple.

  “Let’s try this again,” she said. “Come with me. Quietly. I won’t say it again.”

  Naomi squeezed her eyes shut, breathing in slowly to keep herself calm. I couldn’t stall anymore. But before I could get my foot off the floor, I heard something rolling into the room behind me.

  “What the . . .” The guard stepped to the side to avoid them. They were three metal balls, tiny enough to slip underneath the door, like children’s marbles.

  Jessie tilted her head. “What’s that?”

  Click. The light that battered the room blinded me for a moment. I covered my eyes, doubling over as the doors busted open. The crack of a fist against bone, the shudder of a body slamming against the wall.

  “Hold it!”

  It had taken only a moment. The flash was gone, and when my eyes readjusted, Rhys was next to me, holding his gun up at the unhinged girl still pointing a gun at his mother’s head. Brendan shut the door, moving the other guard’s limp body next to the one Jessie had killed.

  “She’s crazy,” I hissed, rubbing my eyes.

  Rhys kept his gun level. “Yeah, I know.”

  Jessie positively lit up at the sight of him. Her body twitched slightly as if she couldn’t contain it. “Hi, Aidan!” She didn’t seem to mind or even notice when Brendan cocked his gun in her direction. “I always said I wanted to meet your mom, remember?”

  It was incredible. One minute she seemed determined to kill him and the next she looked as if she wanted to kiss him.

  Rhys didn’t move. “I remember.”

  “You promised you’d take me. But then, you promised a lot of dumb shit that didn’t end up happening, didn’t you?” Her hand clasped tighter around Naomi’s mouth. “Well, I’m here now,” she sang. “I’m alive, Aidan. Aren’t you surprised? Don’t I look pretty now? The surgeries turned out great, didn’t they?”

  “Let my mother go,” Rhys ordered her calmly. “You’re surrounded.”

  He nodded at the window behind her, and in the darkness I could see a figure moving, a gun glinting.

  “Director Prince Senior is managing things outside. Nobody is any the wiser and we’d like to keep it that way.” Brendan followed suit in training his revolver on Jessie. “It’s over, Ms. Stone. Slide your gun to me and come with us—quietly. Let’s not disturb the people here.”

  “It’s over . . . ?” Jessie was enjoying this. She stifled a laugh. “Gonna take me in, huh?”

  “Don’t worry.” Brendan smirked. “You’ll be with your friend Vasily in the Hole.”

  A shadow passed over her porcelain face. “There’s only one Devil’s Hole.”

  It was slight, but I caught it: the twitch of Rhys’s hand, just as Jessie’s pants pocket vibrated.

  “Oh, good!” Her eyes were back to shining again. “Finally!”

  She lowered her gun, pushing Naomi forward with a shove to the back of her head.

  “Mom!” Rhys and Brendan cried at the same time, though neither lowered his gun.

  As Jessie began rubbing her neck again, I grabbed Naomi’s trembling hand, pulling her behind me. “You can have this, too!” said Jessie. “You’ve been looking for it, right?”

  She slipped her hand into her pocket and threw something small and glittering at the floor. A wedding band. Naomi’s? I didn’t know what she was up to, or how petty theft featured into Saul’s grand plan, but whatever was going on ended now.

  “Brendan’s right.” I lifted my right hand, ready to fight. “It’s over. You’re outgunned. And I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Well, you got one right. I am outgunned.” In a show of surrender, Jessie bent low and slid the gun right to my feet. “We’ll see about the other thing.”

  Shutting her eyes, Jessie breathed deeply, lowering her head.

  “Mom, go,” said Rhys, inching toward Jessie carefully. “Go find Dad.”

  “Wait, Aidan.” Naomi lifted her hand up. “Something’s not right. She’s—”

  Someone stirred behind us.

  Someone dead.

  “Oh my god,” I breathed, my chest heaving. Rhys and Brendan whipped around, training the gun at the dead security agent with the tiny hole dripping blood out of his head. His corpse was suddenly rising to its feet, his eyes rolling back.

  “What the hell?” Brendan yelled. “What . . . what?”

  They shot at him, several rounds each splitting the air. The guard twitched and jerked but kept stumbling forward. The same as in the tunnels. Jessie . . . Jessie was—

  “Maia. Look at me.”

  I turned back around to find Jessie holding up a tiny black phone—the one I’d almost picked up for her in that hallway. It stopped buzzing.

  “Listen” was all she said before she clicked the button.

  That noise . . . sounds like interference. . . .

  That was the last thought I had. My mind went blank.

  The door burst open.

  “What’s going on in here? Naomi?”

  Blackwell. I didn’t register the terror in his eyes as he saw the guns, the dead security guard lurching toward two freaked-out agents and their equally spooked mother. But then, I didn’t register much of anything at all.

  The interference. Its hellish screeching tore through my brain as I picked up the gun at my feet and shot Blackwell in the stomach.

  “Maia!”

  It was a bad shot, or maybe Blackwell didn’t react quickly
enough. It hit the left side of his gut. Gasping in pain, he fell back against the doorframe.

  People were yelling various things I didn’t care about. There was a shot through the window that shattered the glass and hit Jessie’s shoulder. I took care of the agent who fired the bullet, swinging my arms fast, letting the flames dash across his face. Now he was screaming.

  The back of my neck was burning. It was out of control now. But my feet carried me away nonetheless, as fast as I could run in heels, my gun still in my hands, even when Rhys yelled at me to stop. Jessie and I were out the broken window, my dress tearing a bit from the shards of glass. Together we ran down the grassy courtyard off the cobbled path.

  “It’s not so bad, right? You get used to it.” As we trampled flowers underfoot, Jessie panted and giggled like the adrenaline had made her delirious. “Mine’s Grunewald’s very latest model.”

  Grune . . . wald . . . The name echoed in the vacant chamber of my mind.

  “They put it in all us ‘silent kids.’ Doesn’t need a trigger ’cause it’s always working. It even helps me mask my frequency as long as it doesn’t degrade. But yours is an earlier model, a one-shot activation. Doesn’t work that good. It’s definitely gonna crap out soon, so we gotta do this fast.”

  “Stop!” Rhys’s voice, tense from the chase, called out to us in the night.

  We were heading toward the river bordering the south end of the estate. A shot rang out. Jessie lost control of her body and crashed into mine, pushing us both down to the floor. She’d been hit. Her right leg was bleeding just above her knee.

  Grabbing the gun from me, she rolled over onto her left hip and pointed the weapon at Rhys. I looked from one to the other, from Jessie to Rhys, both their guns trained on each other under the moonlight. But I felt nothing. My body was cold, hollow, my mind blissfully clean except for the lingering echo skidding across the surface of my consciousness: Listen to Jessie. Escape with her at all costs.

  The command I’d been given.

  “Maia, come with me.” Rhys reached to me with his free hand still wrapped in its sling. “Please.”