“Stop right there!” yells the younger one, a wiry but muscular woman with a shock of spiky blue-and-black hair. She catches Amara by the wrist. “Sound the alarm!” she shouts at the other worker.
Amara glances at me, her eyes wild. The woman is strong. I know what Amara’s thinking. We’re supposed to be uber careful using force on anyone but the demons. But she doesn’t have much of a choice but to be aggressive with this woman if we’re going to get out of here.
The drone swoops in front of Amara, moving dangerously close to her face. It zooms back and forth like a mosquito on cocaine, trying to distract her. A high-pitched beeping fills the air. We don’t have much time at all. There are likely extra patrols of counter-terrorism squads on every street corner right now.
“Get off me!” Amara shouts, swinging her arm forward and taking the stunned TTC worker with her. Making the most of the woman’s shock, Amara donkey-kicks her in the stomach and then takes a swing at the drone. The TTC worker crumples to the floor, but Amara’s not as successful with the drone. It swoops down and out of her range again, only to be back buzzing inches from her eyes within seconds.
Amara bats at it, but it’s too quick. I glance toward the entrance of the subway station. There are sirens approaching, but I can’t be sure if they are for us or another situation. Sirens are often the musical backdrop for large, urban centres like Toronto. Especially these days.
“I can’t move forward,” Amara says, frustration etching her voice. “It won’t let me.”
I glance at the TTC worker. She’s lying completely motionless on the tiled floor. Her skin has become ghostly pale. There’s no time to check, but I get the sinking feeling she’s badly injured … at best.
With a swift, high side kick, my shoe collides with the belly of the drone, sending it spinning off course. It rights itself and swoops back, toward me this time. I’m its new target. The lens at the front of the tiny aircraft swivels, directing itself at my face. My image is being recorded. More ammunition for Smith and everyone else who believes we’re terrorists.
Amara suddenly grasps both sides of the drone. Its buzzing intensifies into a high-pitched squeal. With one swift motion, she tosses it to the ground where it crashes on the tiles.
“We need to get out of here,” I say, seeing the other TTC worker on the phone in the booth, a look of sheer terror spreading across his face. I run my hand over the pocket of my jeans. My fingers trace the hard circular outline of the ring. I look at Amara, hoping she didn’t notice. But I don’t have to worry. She’s still fully focused on the drone.
“One second,” Amara says, before leaping into the air and jumping on top of the remains of the drone, smashing the lens and main body into pieces. The buzzing ceases completely. “I want to destroy its ability to capture any more of … this.” She glances uneasily at the worker on the floor.
“I don’t think destroying it matters,” I say. “Police and military drones send real-time data, you know? Smith and her cronies have exactly what they need. Which means we need to get somewhere safer. We’ve gotta dash.”
Amara frowns. “Where do we go? If what Mary told us is true, we’re not going to be safe anywhere. At least he” — she cocks her head toward the glassed-in booth to the right of us where the other TTC worker is standing, still on the phone and watching us intently — “is too terrified to even attempt to take us on.”
I glance toward the main entrance of the station. It will lead us out onto a side street, but we’re less than a block from the Danforth — a main road usually packed with people.
“We’re going to have to try to just lie low somewhere in this neighbourhood, but far away from this station, until late tonight. Then I say we make our way to Beaconsfield and wait there until morning.”
“If we make it to Beaconsfield,” Amara says, throwing one last concerned look over her shoulder at the smashed drone and seemingly lifeless TTC worker before we slip out of the station and make our way toward the back laneway behind the nearest houses.
JASMINE
Raphael lifts his hands off my broken arm. The pain has completely disappeared.
“Good as new,” he says, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Actually, better. For some reason, bone tends to heal stronger than it was before a break.”
I rotate my arm above my head, reaching out toward the sky, then down and behind my back. Nothing. It feels completely normal.
“So, what do we do now? I mean, are we stuck here in London while we wait for this ‘Final Battle ’ or whatever to happen?” I glance around the platform at the commuters whose plans have been disrupted as I wait for Raphael’s response. The atmosphere is as dense as an overcooked pudding.
“London is the epicentre. The place where time begins and the layers of existence come together. That’s why the demonic activity is greater here as well. You know that. There’s a reason you didn’t get back to Toronto. Remember, your part in all of this is different than the other Seers’ … but we really don’t have time to get into it.” He nods his head toward the officers making their way through the crowd.
Though Lily’s still not 100 percent recovered, it’s clear we need to get out of here. And fast. If what Raphael said about these officers and drones checking for microchips is true, we’re about five minutes away from being arrested and detained on suspicion of terrorism.
A female hologram appears above the tracks. “Please be ready for an identification inspection. Officers will be scanning you momentarily.” She smiles brightly, her snow-white teeth shining out at us. You’d think she just informed us that we’ve won the lottery.
Without prompting, many of the commuters start forming a line against the back wall of the platform.
“Do you think you’re okay to walk on your own?” Raphael asks Lily.
She nods, tucking a stray piece of black hair behind her ear. “Yeah, I think so.”
Cassandra’s eyes darken with concern. She presses her full lips together. “Well, I don’t think you are okay,” she says, before turning her attention to Raphael. “How are we supposed to get out of here without the police noticing and gunning us down or something? According to you, if they recognize us, we’ll be taken in as suspected terrorists. Sort of makes me think the last thing we should do is draw attention to ourselves.”
“I’ll distract them,” Raphael answers, his voice as calm as an ocean sunset. “And when I do, you need to slip down those stairs.” He nods his head toward a staircase down the platform that leads away from the main part of the station. One very serious-looking officer, his gun drawn, is blocking the entrance to the stairwell.
“Great plan. Just one little hitch. What do we do with that armed dude there?” I ask, my voice thick with sarcasm. I’m a bit surprised by Raphael’s suggestion. As far as I know, as an Archangel, he’s allowed to guide us, but not actually influence events. What he’s about to do seems a whole lot like changing events, and though nothing is ever consistent with Raphael, I’m pretty sure this is not something his brothers and sister or whoever makes the rules for angels would approve of. That being said, as far as I know, he’s not supposed to be around me, either. And yet …
“Let me take care of that, okay, Jazz?” Raphael says, interrupting my thoughts. “Once you’re down the stairs, you need to make your way to the river and then east along it to the Trafalgar Tavern. It’s low tide, so you’ll be able to walk along the edge of the Thames but try to be as discreet as possible. Once you’re there, ask for a bartender named Clarence. Tell him you’re Seers.”
I raise an eyebrow at Raphael. Is he serious? Just walk up to the bar and tell some random bartender we’ve never met before that we’re Seers?
“What about you, though?” Cassandra asks. “We can’t just leave you here.”
That familiar jealous twinge I sometimes have around Cassandra rears its head. I don’t know why, but there’s just something about her that gets to me sometimes. I mean, it’s an innocent enough question, but n
ow I feel like I look like an insensitive bitch next to her. Like I don’t care about Raphael.
Raphael smiles. “I’ll be fine. Remember that. No matter what, I’m going to be fine, and regardless, you can’t turn back. Be ready. There will likely be only a small window of time for you to get away.”
He gets up, brushes his ebony hair off his forehead, and gives us a wide smile before turning to jog toward the main group of officers.
Lily, Cassandra, and I slowly move toward the back wall of the platform and try to look like we’re simply waiting for our turn to be scanned. A light drizzle begins to fall. I look over at Lily. Her skin has a greyish hue similar to the colour of the sky. She definitely doesn’t look fine to me, either.
“Hey!” Raphael shouts out in the direction of the police, throwing his hands up into the air.
The officer by the stairs looks concerned and grips his gun tighter but doesn’t budge from his post.
“Hey, coppers!” Raphael yells again. “What’s happening? Why aren’t you telling us exactly what’s going on that we need this random identification scan? A bomb? Suicide? Or did you just feel like wasting our time?”
The officers turn their attention from a couple of drunk guys they were in the process of cuffing and scanning.
“You need to stand back,” one of the officers says through gritted teeth.
Raphael keeps walking. “Come on,” he says, his voice nonchalant, “give these blokes a break. They were only having a tipple whilst on the train. Oy! Are we not allowed to have any fun in London town anymore?” He shoots them a wide grin.
The officer by the stairwell moves a few steps away from his post to follow Raphael.
Cassandra, Lily, and I look at each other. Without speaking we share our thoughts: Not yet. He needs to be farther away. The last thing we want is to have to battle this officer. We could bring him down easily with our strength, but bullets are just as deadly for Seers as they are for any “normal” human. And for sure that would not be a discreet way to exit.
All the officers’ attention is now firmly on Raphael. They begin to surround him in a half-circle. It looks like they’re going to try to corral him.
What he’s doing is suicide.
“Stand back! Don’t come closer,” another officer says, lifting his gun ever so slightly. The officer by the stairwell has joined them now, too. His back is to us as we slowly move along the wall, inching closer to our exit.
“Seriously, mate,” Raphael is saying, keeping his voice loud enough for us to hear. “How do we know this isn’t just a way for you lot to puff out your chests and feel more powerful?”
We reach the top of the stairs. From my limited vantage point, the area around the bottom of the staircase looks clear. No people and no police. Cassandra leads the way, with Lily sandwiched between us.
Halfway down the stairs, the sound of tasers followed by shouting erupts from the platform above. My heart freezes. I turn toward the sound of the commotion.
Cassandra looks at me. Her eyes are hard. “No, Jasmine. You heard what Raphael said. We need to keep moving.”
She’s read my thoughts. I feel naked. My feelings for Raphael have just been on display for her to view. She’s possibly the last person I wanted knowing what he means to me … or how muddled my feelings for him are.
We continue down the stairs, taking two at a time. Just as we swing around the concrete post at the bottom of the stairwell, two gunshots thunder from above us. Though every cell in my body screams at me to run back up to the platform, I know Cassandra’s right. We need to keep going.
“More police!” Lily whispers, pointing toward the tunnel to our left. A group of at least five officers, all of them decked out in military gear, is emerging from it.
We quickly duck around the corner of the stairwell and press ourselves up against the concrete wall. I hold my breath as the sound of their boots gets closer, hoping they didn’t see us.
“Male. Late teens to early twenties. He’s down. Profile not found and not coming up on any terrorism databases. A 999 call has been put in.”
Raphael. Those gunshots were most certainly meant for him. A tight fist closes around my heart. He’s an angel. Surely normal bullets can’t harm an angel. Can they?
We hear the officers race up the stairs. “Everyone against the wall! Hands where we can see them!” There are a few muffled cries, but no more tasers or gunshots.
“How do we find the river?” Lily asks as soon as they’re out of earshot. “We really need to get away from here in case more officers arrive.” Panic is rising in her voice like hot lava.
I nod. There’s a path lined with rock gardens and a variety of tall grasses and catnip blooms just to the right of us. The sound of seagulls echoes faintly from somewhere farther along it. “If you listen closely and take in the smell, the sea — or at least the river leading to it — seems to be down there,” I say, pointing. “Besides, I think the tunnel is an obvious no go for us.”
“No kidding,” Cassandra says. “Who knows how many more of those goons are on their way.” She glances at the path. “Trafalgar Tavern. That’s what it’s called, right? But do you really think it’s safe for us to be telling some guy we’ve never met before that we’re Seers?”
“I don’t know. I guess we have to trust Raphael,” I say, trying to push down the memory of the many times he’s shown up in my life only to disappear again. “At this point, unless either of you can think of an alternate plan, I really don’t see that we have any other choice.”
JADE
“When do you think it’ll be safe to leave here?” Amara whispers to me. “Because I swear, girl, I feel like I’m going to boil to death like a lobster.”
Her breath is hot on the back of my head. My own hair is sticking to my neck like sweat-drenched spaghetti and I’m beginning to feel faint from dehydration. Not only is the midday sun making the temperature in this back garden shed unbearably hot, we’re also hiding under a tarp for extra protection in case anyone comes in. At least Amara’s stopped the humming for a bit.
“I suspect we’ll need to wait until at least after midnight. Even then there will likely be night patrols out. The drones are what we need to worry about. They’ll be able to pick us up on infrared cameras in the dark. I bet there are a lot more patrols tonight because of what happened in the subway today.”
Amara nods, brushing back her braids to wipe away a wall of perspiration on her forehead. “You mean we need to worry about drones and demons. Now that Smith and her lot don’t control the demons, I guess they’ll be terrorizing the city, munching on anyone out after curfew … and hunting Seers.”
I pause for a moment, uncertain whether to tell Amara that I’ve got the ring. And not just any ring — Solomon’s Ring. After all, the reason we went back to the Place-in-Between was to return it. And going back is the reason Amara’s twin sister, Vivienne, is now dead. But it’s not like I’m going to be able to hide the fact that I’ve got it if we’re confronted by demons tonight. The ring controls demons, so I’ll use it if I have to.
I take a deep breath. “I have to tell you something,” I say, trying to steady my voice.
“Okay,” Amara says, nodding. The lightness in her voice tells me she has no idea how serious what I’m about to say is.
“You know how we were supposed to place the ring in the wall, the old Roman wall around London?”
“Yeah, Jasmine put it in before …” Amara’s bottom lip quivers. “Before the demons came … and Vivienne …” She sucks in a deep breath and stops talking as two giant tears spill over her lower lids and race down her cheeks. “Damn,” she says.
I reach over and hug her. “I’m so sorry about Vivienne.… But Amara, I still have the ring. We don’t need to worry about the demons tonight.”
Amara’s eyes widen as the gravity of what I’m telling her sinks in. “What?” she says incredulously. “How?”
I try to keep my eyes steady on her. Try to remind myself that i
t was the right thing to do.
“I took it out of the wall. Just after Jasmine put it there,” I whisper.
Anger darkens Amara’s eyes like thunderclouds. “Why did we even go to the Place-in-Between, then? What the hell, Jade?” Her voice is rising.
“We have to keep quiet,” I whisper. “There could be patrols nearby.”
Amara clamps her lips shut and glares at me.
I hold my hands out to her, palms forward in a gesture of surrender. “Look, I screwed up, okay? Well, sort of.”
“Sort of? You think so?” Amara says with a sarcastic laugh.
“Let me explain. The ring, if we left it there, in the Place-in-Between — well, we’d be in more danger now. Think about it, how would we have gotten the demons here in Toronto under control? They’re already feeding on civilians again because no one is controlling them. You saw the news just before we transitioned to the Place-in-Between.”
Amara opens her mouth to speak and then closes it again. She narrows her eyes at me.
“Because when we behead them, we’re not actually destroying them, are we?” I continue. “I mean, we’re killing the vessel the demon was in, but —”
“The vessel?” Amara interrupts, her voice shaking. “You mean when we kill people like my sister? Real human beings?”
I pause. “Vivienne lost too much blood in the battle, Amara. You know that. She wasn’t going to live even if we could’ve driven out the demon possessing her … and we don’t know how to do that.”
“But there’s a difference, right?” Amara says. “A huge difference between the other possessions and when a Seer is possessed and her body dies. Because — and this is what you don’t understand, Jade — the other half of me, the other half of my soul is now in a very dark place. A place so dark, so full of pain and screaming, you can’t imagine. I can feel it. Not the full extent of it, but I can feel her pain and suffering. And if I’m feeling even a fraction of what she is, it’s unbearable for her. That’s why I’ve been humming. I’m sure you’ve noticed me doing it. I’m not going crazy. It’s to block out the pain … to block out my sister. When a demon takes over one of us, they don’t just use the body as a ‘vessel,’ like a hermit crab or something, and then leave us seamlessly like they do the others. They take the Seer’s soul with them. Our souls get hijacked. Vivienne is trapped inside that demon. She’s intertwined with it. Her existence is now perpetual pain. They keep us for our power — imprisoned with them. Forever.”
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