Eggs and Blood
Emily abandoned all signs of struggle. She steadied her breathing, face nothing but alert, when a woman on the other side of the door said, “Housekeeping.”
There was no way to know whether we were in danger, or I might have left it be. But this woman might have heard the struggle, the crashing dishes, might have been listening from the hall for some time.
I leaned forward, questioning Emily’s compliance with my eyebrows, but she didn’t move.
I slid from the bed, but hesitated as my shoes touched carpet. I didn’t quite trust her.
“Stay,” I said levelly, walking backward to the entry. She simply stared at me, looking past the finger pointing her down, and breathed.
The maid waited impatiently on the other side of the door. Mr. Smith’s room had been marked for early checkout, she explained. I told her there’d been a slight change of plans, but gave her my assurance she’d have the room within an hour or so. By the time the maid had moved on to clean a room down the hall, Emily had composed herself and sat on the edge of the bed, picking egg from her shirt and hair.
I leaned against the dresser across from her, and then folded my arms over my chest when I realized the dark splatters covering her were blood, where she’d nicked my forearms. The wounds had already begun to close, and I didn’t need to add that particular detail to our discourse. I gritted my teeth. Who sent a steak knife for scrambled eggs, anyway?
Emily looked up at me.
“I know you’re upset,” I said. “But there is more to all of this than your sister.” I didn’t know if she understood that, if her mother had explained the full extent of the prophecy, that the union would decide who ruled, whether or not the game-ending war would play through, but she didn’t react at all to my words. “I had no choice but to take her there. I’ll try to explain it to you, as much as I can, but I can’t let you go, not now.”
She didn’t argue, but I recognized a “why” in her expression.
“They are searching for you now, Emily. Morgan’s men will find you, they will do anything to get to you.”
The idea distracted me, and my hands fell to the dresser to curl over the edge I leaned against. Emily noticed the short stripes of dry blood and looked a little sick.
“I’m sorry,” I said automatically, and then realized how ridiculous it was. I rubbed a palm surreptitiously over the worst patch to brush it loose and changed my apology into what it should have been for. “You should have never been involved. If Morgan were to find you, he could pull anything you’ve learned from your mind.” Her eyes came back to mine. “And I’ve already let you know more than is safe.”
“Morgan,” she asked, “he’s different… from the others?”
I nodded. “He’s stronger. There’s never been a commonblood immune to his gift.”
She swallowed. “And Brianna, she’s not immune?”
“We don’t know,” I said truthfully. “He’s not had the chance to try.”
Emily chewed her lip, contemplating this for a very long time before she finally spoke again. “I’ll go with you. I’ll go to save Brianna.”
She moved to stand, but I stopped her. “Not yet.”
“We have to go now,” she insisted.
“There are a few things I need to explain first.”
Her lips were moving in that measured, silent way again, the way they had as the policemen searched for us outside the warehouse. The way they had as she climbed the hotel. I knelt before her, finally able, to some degree, to read her lips and gather a few words. A prophecy.
I was suddenly standing again. She was reciting words in the ancient language, re-memorizing a prophecy. Not our prophecy, but her own. My heart sank in a why me kind of hopelessness as Emily realized my discovery. She looked at once guilty and defiant.
“Tell me,” I said flatly.
Her fingers curled into her palms. “I don’t know,” she stammered. “I can’t remember. There were so many.” She glanced up at me again, stricken. “And I didn’t pay attention. I didn’t believe her, Aern.”
“Your mother?”
She nodded.
“Your mother was a prophet,” I repeated, to no one in particular.
“I didn’t know,” she said.
They were wrong about the prophecy. All this time, it wasn’t a daughter of great power, but the daughter of a great power. Did that mean Brianna truly wasn’t hiding a talent as the Division had suspected? Did it mean they were wrong about her protector as well?
“What did she say, Emily?”
Emily shook her head. “Something about the Division. The Taken will die at the hands of the Division.” She pressed her fingers to her temples, desperately seeking the words. “I can’t remember it all. But the Division is bad, Aern. She drilled that into my head over and over and over. We’ve got to get her out of there.”
“They won’t kill her,” I promised. “They have to keep her alive. They have to keep her from the Council.”
“But—”
“That’s why she’s there,” I said. “They need her.”
“No,” she said. “No, that’s not right. Why would they need Brianna?”
My jaw flexed involuntarily. “To get me.”
Emily’s mouth went slack with confusion and I sat heavily beside her. “That’s what I wanted to tell you about,” I said. “Why the Division is after me.”
Morals
Emily sat silent while I attempted to explain my relationship with the Division, how I’d handed her sister over to the one group her prophecy said would kill her.
I told her how Morgan had turned on us. How he’d removed all those of Council who didn’t cower to him. I explained our fear, that those who stayed seemed to submit to his every whim, as if they’d lost their own power of will. I told her he was treacherous, barbaric, but I didn’t tell her the extent of his cruelty. I didn’t tell her of the human girls we’d found, their bodies barely recognizable, as he passed the time until he came into his prophesied power. I couldn’t tell her that. Not when he was after her, and not when he was after Brianna.
“Brendan convinced the others to leave Council, and he’s been gathering new followers every day.” Every time Morgan committed a new offense. “The split is quickly becoming a war. I’d never officially left Council, I stayed to try and right things, and I stayed because it was my place. When it went beyond fixing, I simply stepped away from everyone. The Division has been wooing me for a long time,” I said. “But I’ve never had to take sides.”
“Until Brianna,” she said weakly.
“It was all I could do. The best place for her. No one there will want any harm to come to her. Their entire goal revolves around her.”
“And then why,” she asked, “if they want you so bad, if Morgan is so terrible, why don’t you join them?”
“I don’t trust them.”
“You don’t trust them?”
“I won’t tell you why. I can’t tell you, because there’s still a chance—” I couldn’t finish. I couldn’t tell her how close we were to harm, how there was no guarantee of keeping either of us out of Morgan’s hands completely. I couldn’t tell her about the Division’s interpretation of the prophecy, that they wanted me because they planned to use the second heir to the name for the foretold union. I said, “They don’t want me for the right reasons, Emily. And I don’t want you to trust them either.”
She’d lost her determination again, her hands fisted to stop the trembling.
“They will protect her. It’s the safest place in the world for her right now. And by this afternoon, we’ll be with her.” She nodded and I turned her to look directly into her eyes. “Don’t trust them, Emily. Stay with Brianna.”
She agreed to do as I asked, but I couldn’t help reminding her again as she laced her shoes and found her jacket. I didn’t tell her why, that if Brendan or any of the others were somehow able to penetrate her mind in a way I couldn’t seem to do, Brianna would know. B
rianna could stop them. But as I glanced around the room, I thought maybe I’d wasted my breath, because Emily didn’t trust them at all. She’d been told her whole life they would kill her sister. And now I was forcing her to ally with them, to stay under their protection. I shook my head.
Emily stepped beside me and stared at the shattered dishes strewn across the room, assuming I was shaking my head at the mess she’d made. She glanced at me, silently questioning whether she needed to pick it up, and broke my contemplation. I found the receipt among the chaos and signed for the charge. She’d just cost Mr. Smith a pretty big tip.
We left the hotel to much warmer weather. Emily squinted against the sunlight, and her hand slipped beneath my arm to wrap loosely over my wrist as we navigated the crowd outside the valet stand. Several taxis waited for guests checking out, but we walked past them, opting instead for a random cab passing by several blocks from the hotel.
“Where to?” the driver asked, barely glancing at us as Emily slid into the back seat.
“Harper’s Park, please.”
His eyes met mine in the rear view mirror and I could see the corners wrinkle up with a knowing smile. Harper’s had a reputation, it was a famed makeout spot for the city kids with no place to meet up. I wagged my eyebrows at him and draped an arm over the seat behind Emily.
It was only then that I noticed her staring incredulously at the exchange. I grinned and shrugged my free shoulder as if to say, Cloak-and-dagger, baby. She rolled her eyes.
We drove through the city in silence, Emily studying every car at every street, tensing each time we were passed. I couldn’t tell if she was anxious to finally be this close to Brianna, or if it was the Division.
I touched the gold satin of her jacket to get her attention. “Will it help if I tell you she’s fine?”
“No,” she said. “I just have to see for myself.”
“A few hours,” I promised, and she took a deep breath.
When the cab pulled up to the curb at Harper’s, I drew Emily out behind me and slid my hand through the side window as if I were passing a folded bill to the driver. “Keep the change,” I said offhandedly, using my sway to convince him the bill was actually there.
Emily was inspecting the park during the exchange, and when I straightened to let the cab pull away, I slipped a hand on her lower back and ushered her through one of the gates. It was far from a casual stroll, but we kept pace with the other park inhabitants so as not draw any undue attention. Birds chirped, picnickers lounged, and a few cyclists spun past as we silently made our way across the park. Sunlight dappled the walkway, broken only by the shadow of cottonwood leaves. The path turned over a low bridge and two geese drifted slowly beneath us. It was all wrong.
Emily walked beside me, hands shoved in her jacket pockets, eyes pinched at the corners. Clearly, she wasn’t feeling the peaceful atmosphere, either.
We came out of the park on the south side of Grant Street. The sidewalk was lined with vendors setting up for the afternoon rush. It was here that I rented the scooter.
“No,” Emily said as I passed her the half helmet and goggles.
“They’ll help disguise you.”
“Not that.” She shoved the proffered helmet aside and pointed at the scooter. “That.”
I shook my head and threw a leg over the tiny red machine. “Women.”
“What—” she stammered. “Did you just—”
I smiled.
She narrowed her eyes and yanked the helmet out of my hands. I had to look away when she shoved it down over all that hair and her vicious glare disappeared behind dark goggles. She muttered something nasty when she wrapped her arms around my chest and realized I was laughing, but I couldn’t hear it over the tinny rev of the engine as we sped away.
Normally, a moped was not an ideal getaway car. But as we slipped quickly between traffic and down alleys, I was sure even Emily had forgiven the unusual selection. There was a festival on Sixth and Market Street, and the area was crowded with pedestrians. I felt Emily’s grip tighten on my chest, and took us two blocks south before heading back toward our destination. We walked the final three blocks to the Carlson hotel after leaving the scooter leaned against a café railing.
At the Carlson, we entered through the parking garage to walk out the front doors of the hotel as guests. We didn’t look the part, but no one argued as we slid into one of the waiting town cars.
“Fordham Heights,” I instructed the driver, not missing the sidelong glance Emily gave me. She must know the place, and there was no question she was surprised at the direction our journey was headed. I figured it best to get it all out of the way now.
“Aside from our discussion earlier,” I asked, “what do you know of our friends?”
She stared at me blankly for a moment, and then swallowed. “Not much.”
I nodded. “One more thing you should know, that you should expect, is that they’ve been very successful.”
“You mean…”
“Their special insight into the business world, their relationship with powerful people, it has allowed them to garner ample property, funds, and the like.”
She quirked one brow at my talking in code, but it fell when she realized what I was telling her. The Division used their sway to cheat and steal their way to riches. And then she glanced at my days-old shirt, still no worse for wear, the cut of my jeans.
“It’s another value we don’t share,” I said. “I earn what I have.” Aside from the last few days, I thought. But Morgan hadn’t given me much choice.
“I didn’t…”
I waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it. I just want you to understand. To know what to expect. The rest of us don’t use our advantage for arrangements, we’re honest businessmen.”
“All of you?” Emily whispered.
I sighed. “We were. It seems both sides are now led by the selfish, their greed and want for power.” I spun the ring on my middle finger. “Morals are not a tool for war.”
Emily smiled. It was just the tiniest rise of her lips and it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, but it was a smile. “You sound like my sensei,” she said.
The driver dropped us at Fordham Heights and we walked toward the train station. Emily questioned my methods, but realized quickly that any pursuers would be easier to spot if they’d managed to follow us through so many different routes.
“Council trained us how to respond,” I said. “All of us. And so we can’t use those techniques. We have to decide on the spur of the moment, be as unpredictable as possible.”
“Sorry,” she said. “I’m just anxious to see Brianna.” She glanced down the stairwell. “And I hate trains.”
I smiled. “Me too, but that’s not where we’re headed.”
There wasn’t much else around Fordham, no taxis, no bike rentals. She looked up at me, brows raised. “It’s not?”
I spun her toward the street, where a black limousine waited curbside. “Nope.” And then I leaned in to whisper in her ear, “And it’s bulletproof. Like a tank.”
She smiled, and this time it was for real.
Reunions
The ride to the estate was brief, and Emily sat eagerly beside me peering out the tinted glass. When the driver slowed to turn into a security gate, she squeezed the crook of my arm. It wasn’t until we’d passed through and began to spot the gardens and outbuildings that I realized she wasn’t letting go.
It was hard not to be impressed by the white, marble-columned mansion, somehow both stately and modern at once. The design was timeless, materials priceless, and Emily barely seemed to notice. A security guard opened the door as we came to a stop, and Emily climbed over me to push by him.
As soon as her feet hit the pavement, she was running for the house. She didn’t even notice the red Ferrari on her way past, or the four guards in Armani suits placed outside the main door. But it didn’t matter, because as soon as she’d reached the top step, Brianna came running toward her.
They hit with a practiced familiarity, and held each other for several long breaths before Emily’s hands moved to grab Brianna’s shoulders and push her back, just far enough to glare at her. I’d made it within earshot when Brianna whispered, “It was the only way.”
I could see the tension slowly leave Emily’s shoulders. And then Brianna reached a hand up to cup her sister’s cheek. “Em, you slept.” Emily eased out of the embrace a little more and Brianna laughed. “And what are you wearing?”
Emily glared at her. “I didn’t have a lot of time to prepare.”
Brianna smiled sweetly. “You know I have some things for you.”
“You always do,” Emily said, sliding free of the hug to finally take in her surroundings.
From the open door, Brendan smiled past the reunion to me. “Good to have you back, brother. We weren’t sure a time or two.” Emily stiffened at the remark, but it was only a meaningless word, meant to secure our bond, and no doubt a surreptitious jab at Morgan.
I nodded toward him in acknowledgement, but before I could respond, Brianna was rushing me.
“Aern,” she gushed. “Thank you for keeping her safe.” I smiled, but Brianna had gripped my arms while speaking, and she noticed the partially healed cuts marking them. She said, “Oh, Aern, you’re hurt.”
Emily had the decency to look chagrined, but when I smiled at her, she narrowed her eyes, daring me to tell.
“It’s nothing,” I told Brianna.
She ran her hands over my arms, and I wondered at how thin and pale she seemed. It might have just been that I’d gotten used to Emily, that her vitality had exaggerated the difference between the two, but I couldn’t remember thinking Brianna had looked anything but slim before.
Brendan cleared his throat. “Maybe we should continue this reunion inside.”
Brianna rolled her eyes and smiled at me before turning to face him. “They’ll need some food and hot tea. I’ll take Emily up for a bath, you should have hers served to my room. Something light, I’m sure they’ve had a rough morning.”
[2018] Reign of Queens Page 22