Zach’s hands grip the wheel, knuckles turning white. With a bang we slam into the gate, pulling the two sides of it apart. Absently, I’m aware we should plot the safest course to New York, but I allow myself a momentary reprieve. All that matters right now is that we move on from here.
Away. Away. Away.
Chapter 18. Mason
We’re wary of stopping, so Zach ends up driving until we reach our destination—the dismal New York street marked in red on the map. We switched off our phones as soon as we were out of the Narduccii residence, but I’m still self-conscious, feeling the device in my pocket.
“It’s a useless brick now,” I murmur to Zach as I spin my dead phone in my hand.
“Here’s something I never thought I’d say, mate." He smirks. “We’ll need to get burner phones.”
“Can’t wait,” I offer back with stale sarcasm. “But first, we must each embrace our inner hobo and light a bunch of fires in some trashcans.”
Zach sighs with the appropriate lack of gusto.
We hide in the shadowy corners, wait for any people to move out of sight and, one by one, start lighting fires in any trashcan we come across. I’m getting exasperated as morning comes. We drove throughout the night, so unless we want to wander the streets all day, looking over our shoulders for a sign of the hunters, we’ll need to finish this quickly, before everyone is up for their morning commute.
The experience gives me more than a vague idea of how any legacies living outside of Elmwick must feel. I suppose the constant stress is enough for them to make deals with the hunters, like the Narducciis, the wolf fighter I faced in the ring, and Tasha.
The part of me that’s been resisting the idea of any kinship to the legacies folds into itself. Like Tasha said, I need to accept what I am—a legacy. And if anything should ease that process, it’s certainly the very real horde of hunters on our trail.
Zach lights yet another match and throws it into the nearest trashcan. My body sags with exhaustion, and I keep my hand braced on my bruised side as I move away. But the fire that bursts inside the trashcan is a vibrant, neon purple.
We both stare at it, speechless, even though the flame dies as suddenly as it erupted.
“Was that all?” Zach’s bushy eyebrows dance higher up on his forehead.
“You’re asking me?”
I instinctively whirl around, scanning the street, but no one comes to fetch us. Just when I turn to Zach to tell him what a monumentally stupid idea it was to follow Hiram’s guidance when he may still have been playing us, there’s a hollow knock against the nearest metal door.
Zach and I sharpen our ears and wait for a sign this wasn’t a figment of our overexerted brains. Then the ping sounds again. I shrug at Zach, at a loss for what to do, but he nears the door and brings his knuckles to it. Lightly, he knocks on it once, trying, as closely as he can, to mimic the sound.
The door clicks unlocked but doesn’t open. Zach casts a wide-eyed look my way, but I wordlessly signal to him to try the door. A step behind him, I quiet my breath as he places his palm on the handle and pushes it down. With a screech, the door opens to invite us into a gloomy entrance.
The metal-grille floor vibrates under our feet when we step inside. I pull the door behind us closed, relieved we’re finally off the streets where the hunters could easily spot us.
We barely make out our surroundings by the faint, greenish hue of the light module above. It looks like an emergency light.
“Were you seen?” A quiet male voice surprises us, coming from behind a stack of boxes to the side.
“I-I don’t think so.”
My eyes adjust to the faint light in this seemingly abandoned storage space. A thick layer of dust covers the nearby boxes, and I spot the metal doors of an elevator with a big “Out of order” sign on it.
“This isn’t going to work if you’re guessing,” the man says, still half-hidden behind the boxes.
“Sorry.” Zach clears his throat twice. “I’m Zach. This is Mason. Hiram Narduccii sent us here. He said you could help us hide from Oggy’s men.”
“Ah, I should have guessed.” He lets out a breathy chuckle. “I did that viper a favor once. Seems I’m looped in for life now.”
He steps out from his hiding place—a tall, broad-shouldered Black man about my father’s age. “I’m Eddie. Now, come on.”
His gaze swipes over us before he beckons for us to follow him to the elevator doors. Definitely not out of order, the elevator dings and opens for us. The same faint green emergency light shines inside as well, making me more and more certain the charmers are living off the grid here with some emergency electric system they fixed themselves.
“The compound is down below,” our new host says as the elevator submerges us deep below ground. “We mostly host charmers, though the occasional lion or wolf passes by from time to time.”
The elevator lets us out at level minus three.
“This is the hub,” the man says when we enter the lively space. On the left is a coffee break area. Charmers of different ages lounge and snack there, engulfed in their own conversations. Lines of lockers have been moved on the right side for storage.
At the center lies a little platform surrounded by computer desks forming a circle around it. On the platform is a proper gaming rig. A computer and three huge monitors, above which a pale, blond girl ducks her head. When she spots the three of us, she stands, revealing the full extent of her eccentric style.
Her hair is tied up in a high side pony and dyed a screaming shade of purple halfway down its length. She wears a similar shade of lipstick and blows a bubble with the pink gum she’s chewing.
“Hey boss,” she says to Eddie. “New recruits?”
He looks us over once more. “We’ll see, but first thing’s first. They may have been spotted on their way here.”
A deep frown settles on the girl’s face, wrinkles rippling up her nose.
“Boys,” Eddie says, “Bex here is going to make sure the hunters can’t trace you back to us.”
Before we ask how, Bex comes up to us, points her phone at our faces and snaps a picture. “I’ll need a list of your last known locations and all places you passed between there and here.” Bex blows another pink bubble and pops it while she waits for our reply.
The scent of cotton candy wafts from her, making me wish we’d stopped somewhere for breakfast. Zach starts listing the places we’ve driven past. Bex dictates them into her phone, pulls them up on the map to verify with Zach, then disappears behind her three screens.
“Bex has got more talent than the usual charmer,” Eddie says with a snicker. “We create charms and shields, and she works with the IT version of that. She’ll edit the tape on any street cameras that caught your faces.”
We both nod in appreciation, but we must still seem stunned because he lets out a warm laugh.
“Relax, boys, we’ve been at this for a while. You’re safe here. And unlike most charmers, we don’t look down on vipers. Have you got any pet snakes with you? We’ll find them food.” He chuckles again, rubbing a hand over his thick, black stubble. “Or they’ll find some themselves. The lower levels are teeming with mice. This is New York City after all.”
Zach and I share a tense look of discomfort. We have to speak up, I know we do, but a part of me wishes we could keep up the charade, at least long enough for Bex to take down our faces from any surveillance cameras. Zach and I have a silent argument about it, which draws Eddie’s attention, making him stop talking.
“Something wrong?” His tone turns icy at once.
“We’re not actually, eh, vipers,” Zach says, then presses his lips together in anticipation of the backlash.
“I thought Hiram sent you.”
“He did,” I confirm. “We were staying at his place, but then—”
Eddie interrupts me, eyes narrowing. “You’re hunters.”
The temperature in the room seems to drop. Eddie’s question snuffs out the casual chatt
er, so the others turn to us, on-edge. Only Bex is still typing away at her desk, oblivious to the scene playing out or not bothered enough by it to stop.
“We don’t mean you any harm,” Zach says in his most soothing British accent.
“But you’re not denying it.” Eddie straightens his back, which makes him seem even burlier. “That slippery viper politician! This is how he repays us for what we’ve done for his daughter? By ratting us out to the Guild!”
“Helping his daughter? You mean Issa?” Zach will apparently jump at any chance to get news on Issa, even as the charmers surround us.
I raise my hands, palms facing Eddie in a sign of surrender. “We’re not leading the hunters here. We want Bex to cover our trail, remember?”
“For all the good that would do if you give Oggy our location,” Eddie says through his teeth. “Get their phones.”
He nods at someone out of my field of vision, but I don’t dare fight back for fear of escalating the situation. Someone grabs me from behind, pinning my hands back.
A woman with frizzy brown hair checks the inside pockets of my jacket and pulls out my phone. “It’s off.”
“Yes, it’s off. We need to hide from the hunters.” Our chances of making it without the charmers’ help are less than slim. Without this secret compound to hide us, without Bex to cover our tracks, we wouldn’t last a day. We wouldn’t be able to contact and warn Zach’s mother, let alone escape the hunters. So the best policy we have is the truth.
“We’re hidden legacies.” I stare at Eddie, willing him to believe me. “The Guild is on to us. They know we’re not regular hunters like them. They know we’re looking for a way to get back our lost powers.”
The words sear my tongue. It’s the first time I’ve let myself say this out loud—that I, too, would take the opportunity to gain the powers I’ve been cursed to never claim. After what Tasha said, I feel I’d be stupid not to, if I ever get the chance, that is. At least then I could create a firestorm strong enough to protect not only myself and my family from the hunters, but the rest of the legacies as well.
“Lock them up,” Eddie says.
As the charmers drag us backwards, Zach and I struggle against their pull.
“I need to warn my mother,” Zach shouts. “Lock us up if you need to but let me warn her first.”
“That’s a likely story.” All hospitality has drained from Eddie’s features. “You won’t be talking to anyone until we figure out what to do.”
“No, please.” I struggle, but the charmers bind my wrists with thick rope. “I have to warn Cami.”
Eddie’s black, somehow familiar eyes shoot daggers at me. “Cami who?”
My throat constricts, but I don’t delay the response. “Cami O’Brien.”
Eddie looks at us with newfound curiosity but still signals for the charmers to drag us all the way to a corridor formed between the rows of lockers. They set herbs on the floor and up on the lockers. We’re pushed behind the line of the charm before the woman who searched me lights them.
“Hey!” Zach shouts, fist banging against the purple shield separating us from the charmers and keeping us sandwiched between the rows of lockers.
I can make out the charmers’ discussion even from afar, as they don’t seem to bother whispering.
“What are we going to do with them?” the woman with brown hair asks Eddie.
“I’ll decide once we know we’re safe from the Guild.” He whirls around. “Bex? What’s the word?”
Bex stands from her seat and skips over to his side, high ponytail bouncing. “Done. The footage loops now. The part showing their faces is erased from the database.”
“That’s a good start,” Eddie says after a labored breath. “Now, I’ll interrogate our gue—”
But he stops mid-sentence, like someone has punched him in the gut, stealing his breath. For a second, I think he’s staring at one of our phones, which is ringing, but they wouldn’t have turned on our devices. No, Eddie’s gaze falls on the screen of his own phone.
Bex leans over, looking down her thin nose. “Who’s that?”
Eddie’s shock doesn’t match the answer he gives her. “My daughter.”
Part III
Chapter 19. Cami
If you attempt to break the joint spell, they will all die. Your entire circle. Everyone but you and the hidden legacy.
Mason’s words echo inside my head. I try to swallow down the panic, but I might vomit instead. The few steps I took away from the group so I could talk to Mason are now my salvation. The others in my circle continue their heated discussion on the possibility that the banshees Mason found might have the missing clue from my training room.
I stare blankly at them. Their arguments—both in favor and against hoping we’ll find the last clue—have lost all meaning to me. It doesn’t matter. We could have hoped to find a way to save Awan, but what are the chances we’d somehow find a magical loophole to save each and every one of them? It’s hopeless.
Jean whooshes to me in super speed. “What’s wrong?” Her cheeks turn even paler than usual.
I force myself to breathe, to swallow down the horrible unease stirring inside me. I wish I could say “nothing” and let them hope we’ll make this work, but the past has taught me better than to hide things from my circle.
“Mason is at the Narducciis,” I say. “We need to go there right away. He’s been looking into the joint spell on this quest of his away from Elmwick.”
The rest of the circle draws nearer, listening.
“Of course!” Awan smacks a palm across his forehead. “Zach led Mason to the journal. He must be a hidden legacy, too.”
“All the more reason they aren’t safe at the Narduccii residence,” Bryar adds.
“And my visions point to a future worse than I thought.” I blow out the curl in front of my face. “It seems Mason and Zach are a step ahead of us when it comes to the joint spell. Awan’s warning is not exclusive to him. Undoing the joint spell takes the lives of the five legacies that once bound it.”
“So we’d all—” Vanessa blurts out.
“Die.” My breath rasps.
“That’s it.” Charity’s teeth chatter as she shakes her head. “We can’t go through with undoing the joint spell.”
I huff. “I wish it were that easy.”
The warning Mason relayed to me, the one coming from the banshee he met, reminds me of the horrible curse of our kind.
“I’ve seen us using the clues in the boxes to undo the joint spell. It will happen.”
They stare at me, unblinking.
“So, we’re all going to...” Jean trails off, eyes scanning the others’ faces.
“A banshee told Mason we could survive this, but to understand how, we must find her.” No one moves, so I bottle up the nervous energy coursing through me and force a brighter expression on my face. “We can’t fight what I saw in those visions, but I won’t rest until we figure out how to survive it. And for that, I need to speak to the banshee Mason encountered.”
Their glum looks tell me they’re still creeped out by the news. Who wouldn’t be? But I need to make sure we don’t waste our chance at answers. My job is to give my circle hope when I feel none. It’s the only way to propel them into action again.
“Let me get this straight,” Vanessa says with a frown. “You want us to march to our deaths, heads held high?”
“No, I need you to change your perspective. To think like banshees.” I bite my lower lip before diving into the full explanation. “I learned at my Claiming that the past, present, and future are all set, but we only glimpse parts of them. We forget parts of the past, miss things in the present, and only receive clues of the future in our visions. But it’s enough to make us face what we need to and focus on what must be done.”
I pause for a few breaths before continuing. “We can’t change the fact that our circle will try to undo the joint spell, but we can fight the expected deadly outcome.”
Jean pinches the bridge of her nose like comprehending all this is giving her a headache. “Well, it’s not like we have any other choice, right?”
JEAN MUST HAVE USED her compulsion to procure her mother’s car for this trip. She drives, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel and casting quick looks in the rear-view mirror to check on me, squished between Vanessa and Charity in the back. Due to his height and long legs, we allowed Awan to call shotgun.
We sink into our thoughts during most of the trip, despite the soft background music Jean has picked out for the ride. Awan doesn’t even ask her to change the channel to something that would be more his speed.
I check my phone for new messages throughout the entire trip, but Mason doesn’t send me an update. It’s when we take the highway exit closest to the Narduccii residence that his radio silence starts to worry me.
“Maybe he forgot to text?” Charity tries to uplift my mood, but I shake my head.
“I don’t think the Narduccii residence was safe for them any longer. He said they’d be out of there soon.”
Dawn is breaking by the time we near our destination, and I don’t want to think what this might mean. How closely allied with the hunters are the Narducciis? Would they deliver hidden legacies to them?
“Don’t expect the worst just because they’re vipers,” Vanessa says, though she doesn’t sound harsh.
“Or because they live outside of Elmwick,” Jean adds. “Mother had a very different life before she moved to Elmwick. It’s not up to us to judge their lifestyle.”
I press my lips together before replying, “I’m only worried about Mason.”
A loud curse from Awan interrupts our chat, then he yells, “Pull over, pull over now!”
Steady in her control of the vehicle, Jean slowly changes lanes and pulls over.
As soon as the wheels grind to a halt, crunching against loose pebbles by the side of the road, Awan murmurs, “Hunters...”
Heritage: A Young Adult Urban Fantasy Academy Novel (Elmwick Academy Book 3) Page 14