The Order of Shadows

by Tess Adair

  The second bag held a perfectly flat, oval stone. A heart symbol had been carved into it.

  “Just the one?”

  Clément took the first three bags back, then brought her three new ones. Each of these contained a stone of roughly the same size and shape of the first. Each one had a heart carved right into the center.

  She stared at them all for a moment, then rearranged them in her hands. In that order, it almost looked like the top part or the image was slowly flattening out, turning the heart into a teardrop.

  Like the outline of the Choronzon Key.

  Logan carefully kept her face void of any hint of recognition or surprise. She passed the stones back to Clément as impassively as she could.

  “You’re sure these came from the Wolf?”

  “We are.” He offered no further explanation than that.

  Logan nodded, mulling this over. Based on her own experience with the Wolf, she didn’t doubt that he would want to taunt the Order, even Atherton himself, with their inability to catch him.

  He knew you’d come. That was what Kurt had said. The Wolf had targeted her somehow. And he’d taunted her, too: the town he’d lured her to was called Wolf Creek, after all.

  Her real question was whether they knew, or suspected, that he’d been surveilling her somehow—that he knew how to predict her movements somehow. And there were hints he knew more than that.

  But if they didn’t know, she wasn’t going to tell them.

  “What else do you know?” she asked.

  Atherton gave a small sigh and settled back into his chair.

  “We think he uses online networks to recruit and manipulate,” he said, sounding weary. “Which would suggest he’s not much of a traditionalist. We’ve tried to use that to find him, but as soon as we zero in on a network he’s using, it seems to vanish wholesale into nothing, as if it had never been. As if he had never been.” For a moment, Atherton’s relaxed spine almost seemed to slouch. “We can’t even be sure any of his acolytes have ever seen him in person. He’s a ghost.”

  Logan chose not to tell him she had met the Wolf in person.

  It was time to get to the heart of the matter.

  “So. What do you want from me?”

  “Your cooperation, of course.”

  “My cooperation with what?”

  “We won’t ask much of you,” said Atherton, his voice an empty promise of reassurance. “We only ask that you stay to the end of the Summit and attend a few of the more exclusive meetings that will be held over the next few days. That would hardly require a change in your plans, would it? Some might even consider it an honor.”

  Logan frowned.

  “I didn’t come here to earn my participation badge.”

  “And yet, here you are.” He shook his head gently. “Don’t think of it as earning a badge. Think of it as…doing your best to help everyone you can. That’s all we want, too, you know—to help people. If you don’t want that, then…why did you come?”

  Logan sighed.

  “Just so we’re clear…I haven’t ruled out the possibility that the Wolf might be one of you. One of your Adepts…or one of your Seers.”

  She declined to name names, though she had a few in mind.

  Clément stepped toward them again and nodded solemnly.

  “Neither have we,” she said.

  In the still-dim light of this outlandishly large office, Atherton looked otherworldly. He had the aspect of a businessman, with the wardrobe of a wizard. She supposed he was a little of both.

  “I need to say this, even if you don’t want to hear it,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “You might have played right into the Wolf’s hands.” She watched Atherton’s strange blank eyes as she spoke. “I think he plans to attack during the Summit.”

  Atherton cracked another smile that failed to reach his cold eyes.

  “That,” he said, “is precisely what we are hoping for.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Blind Leading

  Logan hissed her next breath.

  “You’re hoping he will attack?”

  “We’re hoping to bring him out into the open,” said Atherton, self-satisfied as ever. “We believe it’s our best chance to gain the upper hand, as it were.”

  Her hand came up to pinch the bridge of her nose, though she doubted anything could keep the oncoming headache at bay.

  “You won’t gain the upper hand,” she said, exasperated. “Whatever you think your plan is, his plan will be better. You’ll fail.”

  “We underestimated him before, it’s true.” Atherton bowed his head in acknowledgement, then looked Logan right in the eyes. “But we’ve learned from our mistakes. And with the shadow summoner on our side, I believe we can prevail.”

  A few things clicked into place in Logan’s head. Atherton uttered the name shadow summoner like a taunt, but it belied his true intent: he was begging for her help. Despite his airs, she was the crux of his plan.

  So, I already know it’s a piss-poor plan, she thought, shaking her head.

  She thought about Knatt and Jude, Sasha and Alexei. All the people she cared about, made into bait without their knowledge or consent. And now Atherton begged for her complicity.

  “You’ve endangered quite a lot of people on a very thin hope,” she said.

  “Most of them were already in danger, whether they knew it or not. More would be killed if we did nothing.”

  “Who else knows about this?”

  “Those who need to know, do.”

  The arrogance in the room staggered her.

  “I could tell them,” she said. “There’s nothing stopping me from walking out of here right now and warning everyone here that you’ve lined them all up like lambs for the slaughter.”

  That now-familiar empty smile crossed Atherton’s face.

  “I suppose you could,” he said. “And if the Wolf were to hear you, then you’d be giving away our primary advantage in one fell swoop.”

  A part of her knew he was right. Even if she told everyone now, if the Wolf was already here, if his plan was already in motion—

  “I can’t let you do this,” she said, doing her best to keep her sense of defeat out of her voice.

  “But how can you stop it? Who would believe you? That’s the trouble being independent, you see. Your word has only the weight of one person. Ours has the weight of many.” He was smug in his certainty. “How many more do you think will die, if you choose to speak?”

  She could hardly abide how pleased he was with himself. He had her cornered, and they both knew it.

  “Fine,” she said, through gritted teeth. “I’ll play your game. But I’m letting you know, right here and now, that you’re making a mistake. You’re not going to catch the Wolf by surprise. He’s been three steps ahead of you this whole time, and there’s no reason to think that’s not true now.”

  Clément cleared her throat.

  “The council of Seers will converge tomorrow,” said Clément. “In a closed-door meeting, we shall propose our next step, and we shall put it to a vote. As a show of our good faith, we invite you to attend. You may bring your partner, if you wish.”

  Logan sighed, then stood up from her chair.

  “Yeah, I’ll be there. I love a good train wreck.”

  With that, she left.

  To nobody’s surprise, Eliana Blake won her last match, and the tournament, with ease. Logan got back to the arena right before it ended, but instead of making her way back to the box with Jude, she held back, scanning the room for a very particular familiar face. It didn’t take her long to spot the mint green blazer in the sea of dark, muted colors.

  She didn’t approach him in the crowd. Instead, she waited for him to get up, converse for a few moments with his seat partner, and turn away from the stage, eventually heading up the stairs toward an exit. It wasn’t strictly necessary, but she went ahead and closed her eyes, calling the shadow to her. Within moments, she was nearly invi
sible to the naked eye.

  Thank god the Order never figured out how to block eira casting, she thought to herself. It felt deeply satisfying to cast right under their noses, knowing they couldn’t do a single thing about it.

  With her summon keeping her hidden, she followed Alexei silently, through the winding halls of the castle headquarters. Eventually they turned a corner into a particularly wide corridor, with numbers on each of the doors. They were back in the guest residences. Logan was unsurprised to note that Alexei appeared to have snagged fancier accommodations than she had.

  She watched him disappear behind a door, then waited a full minute. She knew she couldn’t hide how she’d found him, but she wanted to give him a moment to collect himself.

  It was possible, of course, that she was just stalling.

  Eventually she let go of the cast. Several seconds after that, she crossed over to his door and knocked.

  For the briefest moment when he opened the door, his expression was reassuringly blank. Then he took her in, and a haze of confusion and anger and something else she couldn’t name overcame him.

  “You followed me.”

  “I did. I’m sorry about that.” She studied his face for a moment, all too aware of the vulnerable uncertainty on her own. “And I’m even sorrier that I have to ask you this, but can I please come inside?”

  Alexei pursed his lips, gave a quick nod, and took a step back, allowing her entrance. He closed the door after her.

  “Is there anyone else here?” she asked.

  Alexei sighed in irritation.

  “Not at the moment, no.”

  “Good,” she said, easily glossing over the bulk of his words. As she turned to face him, she did her best to turn her face into a mask of professional detachment. “I just had a meeting with the High Prophet. Not only is he aware that the Wolf might attack during the Summit, he’s hoping he will. He’s harboring the insane notion that he will somehow catch the Wolf off guard, and I’d say it’s a fair bet that he doesn’t much care who gets caught in the crossfire.” She took a breath, trying her best not to be bothered by the possibility that Alexei might still be too angry to hear her. “You should leave this place. Immediately.”

  Alexei blinked at her.

  “You want me to leave?”

  “It’s not safe here. I’m going to tell the others to leave, too.”

  “But you’re going to stay?”

  Logan pursed her lips, biting back the urge to lie.

  “Probably, yes.” She felt Alexei’s scrutinizing gaze on her, but she held steady. “But you should go. You don’t owe it to James Atherton to die for his stupid plan.”

  The look in his eyes reminded her irresistibly of that last moment in his apartment, before he’d shut the door in her face. She was even surer now that she didn’t really know what was going on behind his eyes.

  “But you do?” he asked, his eyebrows raised in question.

  Logan glanced to the side, suddenly even more uncomfortable. Why wasn’t he yelling at her? Why did his voice sound soft, instead of angry?

  “I owe it to everyone else.” A part of her hated this open honestly, but she was determined not to lie to him anymore. “Most of the attendees here won’t believe me if I tell them they’re in danger. The Order Adepts aren’t going to break ranks from the leadership, and the donors believe every single thing that comes out of Atherton’s mouth. I have no authority here.” She shrugged. “I can’t even get you to believe me.”

  “I believe you.” Logan let herself meet his gaze again. His expression was hard, but less hostile than she expected. “But if I go, you should go, too.”

  Logan sighed. She didn’t want to go down this road, but more than that, she wanted Alexei to be safe.

  “Come on,” she said, lowering her voice and trying to sound as delicate as possible. “You know it’s different for me.”

  “You mean I know that you’re different.”

  Logan took in a slow breath.

  “Yes. That’s what I mean.”

  Alexei shook his head.

  “I’m not sure I know any such thing,” he said. “You’re still a person, aren’t you?”

  Logan felt a funny flicker somewhere in the vicinity of her stomach. The words sounded so close to what she wanted to hear, but a part of her couldn’t help but think that he asked the question genuinely, not rhetorically.

  She let out an exhausted sigh.

  “I’m harder to kill than you are, okay? I’m harder to kill than most people. And that’s what matters right now.”

  Alexei’s gaze narrowed.

  “Please tell me you haven’t convinced yourself that the Wolf wouldn’t kill you.” He crossed his arms over his chest as he stared her down. “Just because you got away from him before—”

  “I have no idea if he wants to kill me,” she said, shaking her head. “I only know he’d have a pretty hard time doing it. Okay?”

  Alexei let his gaze drop and shook his head.

  “If you say so.” He ran a hand through his head, glancing at the door behind her. “Look, I’ve got to get ready for tonight, and you’ve got other people to warn, don’t you?”

  Logan felt her heart drop through her stomach. She’d expected him to dismiss her pretty quickly, but that didn’t make it any easier to take.

  Respect his space, she told herself. You owe him that much.

  “Right,” she said, taking a step toward the door. “Well. Remember what I said. And…maybe I’ll see you later.”

  She turned around before he could respond, pulled open the door, and shot out into the hallway.

  She had already reached the end of the corridor before her preternaturally good hearing picked up on the soft click of his door closing behind her.

  Perhaps owing to the brevity of her conversation with Alexei, as well as her desire to speed away from him as fast as she could without giving away her inhumanity to passersby, Logan managed to beat her party back to the suite. She blinked around the empty room for a while, then remembered that the Gauntlet Ball would be happening in a few hours. Much as she disliked the very concept of the thing, she knew she had to attend, in case the Wolf showed. So, she headed toward the shower while it was still unoccupied.

  When she emerged again, clean and not yet dry, the suite remained empty. Shrugging to herself, she went into her room and shut the door behind her.

  As the door clicked shut, Logan dropped the overly fluffy Order towel from her body, using it for one quick last swipe at the moisture on her arms and legs before tossing it on the floor. She dove into her bag and pulled out her underwear for the evening: a simple pair of black satin briefs and one of the few bras she owned designed for aesthetic over function. Though she marveled at the idiocy of placing the clasp in the back of the thing rather than the front, she got it on without too much trouble.

  The one good thing about her conversation with Atherton was that Logan now felt absolutely no compunction about keeping weapons strapped to her body during an event. If anyone caught her, she would simply refer them to the High Prophet. So, she strapped one knife to each ankle and one to her lower back, easy enough to reach by simply putting a hand to her own waist. After that, she zipped open the plastic garment bag hanging from a lone hook behind the door and slid on the well-tailored black dress pants and black silk camisole hanging inside.

  Before she put on the final piece, she took out a small plastic case from the bottom of her bag and opened it. Aside from a comb and extra toothpaste, it held a single tube of lipstick and a black eyeliner pen. She took both and leaned in close to the mirror hanging on the door. After a few minutes, she wore well-applied eyeliner around both her eyes, and less-than-expertly applied dark red lipstick on her mouth. Glancing at her own fancied-up look in the mirror, she felt her mouth twitch.

  It’s not a high bar, but…I’d fuck me. She gave herself a shrug.

  With her minimal makeup tools put away again, she turned back to the plastic garment bag and p
ulled out the last item in it: a high-collared suit jacket made of fine black silk, with a closed front, delicate embroidery at the collar, and striking epaulettes on the shoulders. It fastened with a diagonal line of intricate buttons from waist to neck, and it bore an exaggerated train that hung around her hips, shorter in the front and longer in the back. She checked the hidden pockets she knew had been sewn into the lining and found that they hid her extra weapons well.

  Once the dozens of tiny buttons had been done up, she seated herself on the twin bed and pulled her notebook out of her bag.

  Closing her eyes, she recalled the scene in Atherton’s office, and the first symbol she had seen there. Without opening her eyes, she sketched it on the page in front of her. She took another short breath, solidifying her idea of it. Then she opened her eyes and took in what she’d drawn.

  It looked like an inverted cross growing a pair of devil horns. That was what she’d seen in the Prophet’s book.

  And it was what she’d seen on the dead Adept’s hand in the video footage, before the Wolf had taken over the screen.

  But what did it mean?

  After a few minutes, she heard human noises beyond her door. Knatt and Jude had finally made it home, and they were coming in the door. She made out a third voice too, and it sounded like Sasha to her.

  “Logan, get out here!”

  That was Sasha, all right.

  Good. I can tell them all at once.

  She stepped into the second, cleaner pair of boots she’d brought with her, tightened up their unnecessarily complicated laces, and opened her door to the main room.

  Sasha stood leaning on the wall right outside her door, her head already turned to her, waiting. Her unstoppable hair had been pulled back into a fancy updo, and her pretty eyes glittered with purple and gold. Her dress was a slinky, silky, dark purple number, and she wore a gold wrap around her shoulders. Now that she no longer wore the Order-issue robes, her right forearm was exposed, revealing what appeared to be a cuff tattoo around her wrist.

  “Look at you,” she said, amused. “I’ve always told you you’d clean up good, haven’t I?”