by A C Spahn
I found his car at the end of a row, on the opposite side of the lot from where Desmond had dropped me off. His window was broken, glass shattered on the asphalt.
A bullet hole trailed a single line of dry blood down his forehead.
Chapter 20
THEY’D FOUND WHERE I LIVED.
They’d found where I lived.
I spun, expecting to find the parking lot full of cult members. But nothing moved in the darkness. Eyes seemed to bore into me from every shadow. The buildings were closing in, collapsing on me, and invisible bindings seized my wrists and ankles and throat, squeezing tighter and tighter. My chest burned.
Recognizing the symptoms of a panic attack, I fought to focus my thoughts. Nothing was binding me. I was still free. This had been an attempt to rattle me. I couldn’t let it succeed. I was in control. I was in control.
Clutching my purse, I headed down the street. My steps pattered softly on the sidewalk. Fog choked the air, masking anything more than six feet ahead of me. My heart thundered in my ears.
Inhale. Exhale.
Forcing myself to walk evenly, I checked over my shoulder every few seconds. Shadows kicked my wariness to hyper-alert. Every trash bin hid a potential enemy, every cross-street a possible ambush. One hand gripped tight around my purse’s shoulder strap. The other I kept ready, my shield ring poised for activation.
My chosen hollow tree looked innocuous in its spot halfway down a residential street. Far enough from my apartment to avoid notice, but close enough to reach in an emergency, it had provided the best option I’d found for stashing my bug-out bag. The hollow lay amid the tree’s tangled roots, where I could access it without drawing attention by pretending I’d dropped something. This time I made no pretense. I crouched and shoved my hand beneath the gnarly root snarl. For half a frantic heartbeat I thought the bag was missing, but then my fingers closed around the waterproof nylon.
The bag came free of the roots easily, a small package the size of my two hands side by side. Black fabric made it unlikely to catch notice, and a total absence of zippers or metal meant it would never accidentally reflect sunlight. The tightness in my chest eased as I rose, clutching the package. I was in control. I was following my plan. I could find somewhere safe to hide and then regroup.
I tugged open the bag’s strap, needing to see my supplies, to remind myself I had prepared for this possibility. One glance at the cache, and then I would go.
My multitool and book of matches lay beside the flashlight and first aid kit. A trio of unenchanted rings and a small spool of thread for enchanting nestled beneath them. A folding toothbrush and toothpaste, and a miniature bar of soap settled at the bottom of the bag, beside a protein bar, a tiny tool for filtering water, and a map of the greater Bay Area.
The cash was missing.
So was the enchanted drawing of my tattoo.
I stood staring into the bag as the street spun around me. Tremors began in my hands and spread up my arms. My legs felt rooted to the ground, weighted with lead.
They’d found me, found me, found me.
And they’d stolen my only way to run.
The eyes I’d felt watching me seemed to return, staring down from every fog-shrouded window, from beneath every car and behind every telephone pole. The panic I’d been fighting wrapped barbed wire around my lungs. My mouth gulped in tiny, frantic breaths, but they failed to ease the burning in my chest.
Fear ate me alive. Controlling it was a distant dream.
Finally the need to run broke through my paralysis. I managed to gasp in one deep breath, and it gave me a blast of focus. Just move one foot, Adrienne. One foot. An inch forward. Just one inch, that’s all you have to do. Teeth gritted, sweat pouring down my face, I skidded my foot an inch across the sidewalk. Good. Now another inch.
Bit by bit, I made myself leave the tree. By the time I made it to the end of the block, the world had stopped narrowing, and I managed something resembling a brisk walk.
I staggered back to my parking space at the apartment building, then stopped and stared at the empty concrete. Right. My car was a rusting pile of junk now. I needed a ride. And maybe that had been their plan, to scare me outside where I’d be easier to snatch and drag back to Virginia where they could ...
Hyperventilating, I dropped my purse and crouched to tuck my head between my knees. Breathe. Breathe. Get out the phone. Call Desmond. With shaking hands, I fumbled my phone out of my purse, dropping it twice before I managed to navigate speed dial.
No one answered.
Of course not. Desmond was driving home, and he was never one to disobey traffic laws.
Conscious of the dark rooftops around the parking lot, of the mist hiding who knew what, I scrambled to my feet, grabbing one strap of my purse. My feet itched, needing to flee. It didn’t matter where.
I sprinted off down the residential street, heart thrumming in my throat. Magic whispered across my senses, kadumkadumkadum, mingling with the distant sounds of city traffic and the hum of the dim streetlights. Cool air filled my lungs with the damp smell of night. I took a turn, then another, seeking nothing but to lose myself in the narrow streets and alleys.
My phone buzzed in my hand. Desmond’s photo popped up, a shot of him holding up a jigsaw and board and looking quizzical. I answered before the first ring finished. “I need help.”
“I’ll be right there.”
“Don’t go to my apartment! I’m not there. I’m at ...” I looked up at the next street signs and gave him the intersection.
“Ten minutes,” Desmond said. “Stay out of sight. And stay on the line. I’m putting the phone on speaker so I can still hear you.”
An apartment building on the corner had a large dumpster out back. I huddled beside it, head down and shoulders hunched, hoping I looked like just a random homeless person. Nothing to see here.
Wind swept past my shelter, slithering up my sleeves and down my neck. Moisture from the ground seeped into my jeans, making me shiver all the more. Fog coated the night like a blanket, making the building across the street seem a mirage. Streetlights lit up patches of fog, small nuclei of brightness that filtered down, growing dimmer and dimmer until the shadows swallowed them. A car rolled past, its headlights barely illuminating the street ahead. A dangerous night to be out.
When a car stopped at the intersection, I rose to a crouch, every nerve alert. In the gloom I couldn’t recognize it, nor the tall figure that stepped out of the driver’s side, but the voice that called my name was like a life preserver at sea. “Adrienne?”
I bolted from my hiding place and buried myself in Desmond’s chest. “They f-found me,” I choked. “Not just me. They found my s-stash. They know me, Desmond. There’s nowhere I can run, nowhere I can be safe!”
“Slow down, Adrienne.” Desmond wrapped protective arms around me. “What stash? What did they find?”
“My go-bag. The stuff I set aside to run. They took my cash. They took the maze. They found me.”
Desmond scanned the street. “Let’s get further away from here, then we can talk. Can you walk?”
I nodded, and managed to put enough steel into my legs to climb into the passenger side of the car. Desmond waited until I buckled myself in, then returned to the driver’s seat. As the car pulled away from the curb and fog obscured the dumpster where I’d hidden, some of the chains choking my heart slackened. I ran a trembling hand through my hair. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”
Desmond rested a reassuring hand on my knee. “Could you tell how many had been there? Or who it was?”
“No. My place isn’t big. One person could have trashed it as easily as twenty.”
“So we don’t know for sure this is another fleshwriter.”
“What?” My thoughts felt sluggish, like they were just starting to reawaken after my animal brain calmed down.
“Nobody was waiting for you when you got home. If it was a whole group of cult members, they would have snatched you
as soon as you stepped through the door, right?”
“I ...”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, it’s okay. I need to ... to face it.” I swallowed. “Yes. They would have taken me if they thought they could do it without anyone noticing. So it couldn’t have been too many of them.”
“How many other enchanters do you think you could take in a fight?”
“It depends. Sam could hold me off all by herself, but I could probably handle two or three average enchanters.”
“And how many of Vince’s strength?”
“More than that.” I held up my hand, watching as the shaking in it subsided. “You think Vince stole the maze?”
“I think whoever did it was afraid to face you in a confrontation. I think they wanted to scare you, to throw you off balance so you might make a mistake.”
“You mean like running off into a foggy night in the big city by myself?”
He smiled tightly. “I wasn’t going to bring it up, but since you did ...”
My hands no longer trembled. I rested one of them atop Desmond’s calloused knuckles, soaking in his strength. “I’m sorry. I won’t do something that dumb again.”
“If you do, I’ll be there to give you a lift.”
We stopped at a light, and I hated the way my heart leaped into my throat again, the way I peered into darkened windows, afraid to see enemies leering back. The way the stillness of the fog made me think monsters lurked just out of sight.
“Desmond,” I whispered, “I think it’s time.”
He flinched. “Please don’t say that.”
“I’ve been holding on, fighting back, trying to be brave. But this is the end. He found out my address. The address that isn’t published anywhere, never receives mail, and is paid for in cash. Not only that, he knew to search the surrounding neighborhood for my bug-out bag. I’ve never told anyone about that bag, not even you. Vince is studying me, like a lion studies a gazelle. He’s learning my tricks, my tactics. If you still want to come, we need to ru–”
The word stuck in my throat. I looked at Desmond’s profile, at the stern set to his jaw. I thought of all I’d be asking him to give up if we fled the city. What did I have to offer him? A life on the run, fleeing from town to town, afraid to make friends or hold a job for too long. Afraid to draw attention by making art. Always checking over our shoulders, terrified that the slightest mistake could bring the end. What kind of a life was that for him?
What kind of a life was that for me?
“I can’t keep running,” I murmured. The words sounded odd to my ears, like I was testing them out. I repeated them, and they came out firmer. “I can’t keep running. I’ve been trying to get Sam to face her fears, when I turn into a quivering puddle the first time a fleshwriter says boo. I can’t let them keep doing this to me. If I do, even if I escape, they still win.”
The light turned green, giving an emerald glow to the fog around it. Desmond stepped on the gas. “From what I’ve heard, the best way to overcome fears is to confront them.”
“Yes.” I shivered. “I don’t think I’m quite at that point yet. But we won’t run tonight.”
He took a hand off the wheel to squeeze my arm. “Thank you.”
“This isn’t just for you. I need to be stronger for me.”
He smiled. “I know. Thank you for that, too.”
I drew in a shuddering, deep breath. The action loosened my lungs enough that I felt like I could finally breathe normally. “Where are we going?”
“I don’t know yet. But if we’re staying in the city, we’ll need to find somewhere you’ll be safe.”
“Not headquarters.”
“I was about to suggest that.”
“Vince will think to watch for me there. If we go there, I’ll feel trapped. Penned in. I can’t take that right now.”
Desmond inhaled thoughtfully. “We do need to at least tell Harrow what happened. The Union can help protect you, if ...”
“The Union can’t even protect itself.” The words came out in a quick breath, so fast I didn’t even realize I’d decided to tell Desmond the whole truth.
He glanced at me before frowning at the road ahead. “What do you mean?”
“You can’t tell anyone. Harrow said he’d kill me if this spread.”
“I won’t say a word.”
I spilled it all. Everything Harrow had said about the other Unions falling, about the impending war between Voids and fleshwriters, about the spy in the Union. About the unrest among other paranormal species and the way magic seemed to be sick. About how Harrow wanted to form a coalition to stop the fleshwriter cults, with me as the head of the spear. “This conflict has been building for decades, but now it’s all coming to a head, and both sides have decided I’m the thing they want to fight over.”
Desmond looked sick at the thought of Voids being slaughtered across the country. “I didn’t realize it was this bad.”
“It is. And it’s getting worse. It’s possible Vince found my apartment by searching neighborhoods and asking people if they’d seen me, but that’s too obvious for him. I think it’s more likely he got my address from the Void Union spy. And since Harrow said only high-ranking people had access to my information, it means Union security has been seriously breached.”
He blew out a slow breath. “Are you saying you don’t want to call Harrow?”
I thought about it for a moment. “No,” I finally decided. “We need to tell him. If nothing else, he needs to know how deeply his organization is compromised.”
Desmond nodded and handed me his phone. “In case yours is being tracked,” he said. With a start, I turned off my phone. I was seriously rattled to have forgotten that precaution.
Harrow answered at once, and listened as I told him what had happened. He immediately suggested returning to headquarters, an offer I refused. He settled for assigning an entire squad of Voids to guard me wherever I wound up, not caring whether or not the protection drew attention. Desmond offered his place as a refuge for the night, to which Harrow and I agreed. I’d find a secure hotel room tomorrow, and probably switch hotels every night until this was all over. I didn’t know how I’d pay for all that, but Harrow said the Union would handle it.
“There’s one more thing,” I said. “Vince has an enchanted drawing of my tattoo. A drawing by itself, or an enchantment by itself, usually wouldn’t be enough to track me. But the fact that it’s both, and that I’ve been hiding it for months, means it has a strong enough connection to me that it could serve as the focus for a tracking enchantment.”
I could almost hear Harrow’s grimace through the phone. “I have people using the tracking enchantment you crafted to follow the fleshwriter. He’s proving adept at evading them.”
“I figured, or someone would have been there to stop him from ransacking my apartment. There were other items in my home that he could use to make trackers, too. I didn’t stay to check if any of them were missing, but there’s a good chance he’s got a way to follow my movements now.”
“I’m sorry. I wish we could have stopped this from happening.”
The apology was an unexpected surprise from Harrow. “Thank you,” I said. When he didn’t add anything further, I went on. “There are ways to disrupt Vince’s tracking, but they’re time-consuming and a bit risky.”
“No,” Harrow said at once, the vulnerability of his apology already gone. “It’s better if the fleshwriter feels like he has a lead on you. We will be able to watch for him, perhaps catch him when he lowers his guard.”
“You want to use me as bait again.”
“Do you have a better suggestion?”
“No,” I admitted. “But I’d rather not have to worry about that tonight.”
“DeSoto’s apartment will be heavily protected by my best people. Get some rest, Adrienne. You will need it tomorrow.”
He hung up.
I handed Desmond back his phone. He turned left, an
d I recognized the Chinese restaurant on the corner. We were almost to his apartment complex. He glanced aside at me. “I’m glad you decided to stay and fight this, Adrienne. But I want you to know, if you had decided tonight was the time to run, I’d have come with you.”
He turned in to the small parking lot beside his complex and took the first available spot. Once the car was in park, he faced me. A strand of unruly black hair had fallen into his eyes. I brushed it aside. My hand was trembling again. “Thank you,” I whispered. “No one’s ever been ... this for me.”
He bit his lip, and his ears reddened. “No one’s ever been this for me before, either.”
“Are you lying?”
“No!” He looked shocked. “Why would you think that?”
“You’re giving your tells.” My tone softened. “You’re embarrassed.”
“Uh ... no, I’m not ...”
“Now that was definitely a lie.”
He sighed. His fingertip traced my jawline. “How do you know how to cut right through my defenses?”
I pressed my hand to his chest. His heart thudded beneath my touch. Kadum. kadum. kadum. Its rhythm drowned out the tingle of ever-present magic, a new kind of drumming that made my blood pump faster.
His words seemed an invitation, one I finally decided to accept.
“Because you never raised them to begin with,” I whispered, staring up into his eyes. “That’s why I ... I love you.”
He inhaled sharply, and radiant sunshine dawned in his smile. “Say it again.”
“I love you, Desmond.”
Cupping my cheeks, he brought his face close to mine. “You have no idea how glad I am to hear those words.” His lips met mine, soft and caressing. I molded into his touch, my insides melting as fear was burned away by desire.
He broke away, just for an instant, his breath still hot on my skin. “I love you too, by the way.”
I laughed softly. “I surmised as much.”
Then our mouths danced once more, only separating so we could make our way into Desmond’s apartment, lock the door, and barricade it against the threats outside.
