Hunting November

by Adriana Mather

  Behind me, the closet door slams into the dish rack, opening an inch, but the barricade holds. The staff’s agitation increases, and a few of them look like they might make a move toward us.

  “Run!” Ash says, shoving aside a kitchen worker who steps into our path. And it suddenly occurs to me that even though they’re not Strategia, they might have been instructed to intervene if an event like this ever occurred. The instant I have the thought, and before I can move an inch, the guy chopping onions holds up his knife.

  Without pause, I grab an empty pot and swing it as hard as I can toward his hand. But instead of lunging forward or swiftly moving out of the way, the guy jumps back and drops the knife, putting his hands in the air. Definitely not Strategia.

  The door slams into the rack with more force this time, dislodging a few plates and sending them crashing to the floor. Ash and I don’t look back, we just run—through the kitchen, across the sticky floor of the pub, and out into the dim alley. The moment the night air hits my face I shudder, not because of the cold but because we were only seconds away from being trapped.

  We run through the crowded alley, attracting way more attention than is smart. I look over my shoulder before we turn into the broader cobblestoned street, but the men from the pub haven’t emerged yet. I push my legs harder, weaving around the drunk crowds and late-night shoppers.

  The instant the car comes into sight, I find an extra burst of energy. Ash clicks the keys and I grab the cold metal handle, but before I can pull the door open, pain suddenly radiates from my shoulder, like a bite from a horsefly or a bee sting.

  “Ow,” I say, my hand reaching for the burning sensation. My fingers find a thin metal shaft and I look down. There, lodged in my shoulder, is a blow dart. Ash stops dead in his tracks and turns back to me, registering the dart and immediately searching for the attacker. Over his shoulder I catch a glimpse of dirty-blond hair…Logan! I grab at the car door, but it swims and shimmers in front of me. I try to call out for help, but the words gurgle and drift away from me. My legs wobble and I take one lurching step forward….

  “If you even think about using that blade, I will shove one of your horseshoes so far up your…,” says a fading voice that I recognize but can’t quite place. My vision goes dark and all of a sudden I’m falling.

  SLOWLY THE ROOM comes into focus—the cream-colored fabric of the couch underneath my cheek, a coffee table, a fireplace, a faded navy-blue-and-red antique rug on a wood floor, a couple of armchairs, and a heavy writing desk. The simple decor and the medieval-esque antiques remind me of the Academy, but the room is lighter and airier. I push myself up into a seated position and there’s a sharp pain in my head, making yesterday’s hangover seem like a mild ache.

  I rub my forehead and all of a sudden I remember the dart. I stand up fast, looking for Logan, Ash, and anything that will explain where I am. The pain in my head increases tenfold. “Damn it,” I breathe through clenched teeth.

  “Better sit back down and drink that god-awful concoction Ash made for you.”

  For a split second I think I’m hallucinating. I thought I heard her voice last night, but the dart knocked me out so quickly I wasn’t certain. “Aarya?”

  “Yeah, yeah. You’re surprised to see me. You can’t believe I’m real. I’m your every dream come true, your knight in shining armor.” She takes a breath. “Now drink that black sludge so we can get down to business. Logan very nicely laced the sedative on the dart with poison, which is that splitting headache you’re feeling. We got you the antidote in time…obviously. Or rather I did. But clearly there are side effects.”

  I can only stare at her, frozen in place. She’s dressed in simple black clothes, not unlike our school uniforms, with a black utility belt around her waist that’s fitted with knives and vials of god knows what. Her hair is tucked behind her ears and she’s wearing black eyeliner that I’ve never seen on her before. She reminds me of the cover art for an assassin movie—totally badass.

  When I finally open my mouth, all I can manage is: “Aarya…but…I don’t understand. You’re here?”

  She rolls her eyes. “I forgot how slow you are sometimes. Drink. The. Black. Effing. Sludge.”

  I sit down on the couch, grateful for the support of the cushions, and take the glass off the coffee table. She wasn’t kidding about the sludge part. It tastes like it was made of mud, snail slime, and swamp water. I decide faster is better and gulp it down. The moment I finish it, I clamp my hand over my mouth, fearful that it might come right back up.

  Aarya plops into one of the plush chairs across from me and swings her legs up over the arm, like this is all perfectly ordinary.

  “Where’s—” I start. The drink, while hideous gak, is already starting to clear some of the pain and therefore clear my thoughts.

  “Ash?” Aarya says, finishing my sentence. “He’ll be back soon.”

  “But what about—”

  Aarya holds up her hand to stop me. “Take a breath, don’t puke on my rug, and I’ll tell you all about my heroics.” She smiles and wags her eyebrows at me. On any other day I would find her delivery annoying, but in this particular moment, I couldn’t be happier to see her.

  Aarya picks something out of her teeth and takes a deep breath. “Let’s see…where should I start?” She taps her fingers on the seat cushion. “Ah yes, let’s start with me. Now then, after you and Ash left the Academy, everything just got so boring. It was like it was before you came—cliques, subtle manipulations, Family politics playing out in obvious ways. No murder, no blow-ups, and no mystery. Layla was practically singing down the halls she was so happy.”

  I shake my head. My nightmare was her amusement. “You have to be the only person in the world who thinks chaos is an ideal state of being,” I say.

  “Well, thank you very much,” she says, and makes a purring noise. “Now where was I…oh right, boring. I was a little peeved, you know, that you and Ash would go to London to take on Jag in a fit of epic stupidity and not even think to invite me.” She gives me a look. “So I invited myself. And I must say, you were disappointingly easy to find. You went to Logan’s smithy only hours after I agreed to trade with him for information about you if you happened to stop by, which, predictably, you did. I could have found you two in my sleep. You’re not even making it interesting.”

  “Logan—” I say, my thoughts whirling from Aarya’s nonchalant delivery.

  “My cousin. A distant cousin and a total wanker,” she says, and I groan at the obviousness of it—of course he’s her cousin. “But he’s also a wealth of knowledge and a talented tracker.”

  So Logan knew we’d be showing up. For a brief moment I’m furious. “He tried to kill us, you know!”

  “Yes,” she says with no remorse.

  The men from the pub enter my thoughts. “And there were these two guys at the Dirty—”

  “The trackers who recognized you?” Aarya says. “Yes, Ash told me about them.”

  “How much do you wanna bet they were there as a result of Logan, too?” I say.

  After a couple of seconds, Aarya laughs. “Yes, that has Logan written all over it,” she concedes. “Your escape from the pub deposited you right in his path.”

  I rub my shoulder where it aches from the dart. “You’re right. He is a wanker,” I say, but the British expression sounds awkward in my American accent.

  “Family,” Aarya says like she agrees more than anyone. “But thankfully for you, my fast negotiating skills won out in the end and we got you the antidote to the drug he tipped the dart with and managed to get out of there before the trackers from the pub showed up. At which point Ash fell at my feet groveling, as he should, and we dragged you back here to my parents’ apartment.”

  It’s hard to know how much of what Aarya says is true and how much is concocted in her twisted brain, but right now her self-aggrandiz
ing is the least of my concerns.

  “Right, so who else did Logan talk to?” I say. “How do you know Logan didn’t also trade information to the Lions?” I don’t attempt to hide my frustration.

  “The truth is, Logan couldn’t care less about anything but his smithy and those awful dogs,” Aarya says. “All he wants is to make enough money to live his nasty reclusive life without being overly bothered. To that point, he would sell information about you to the Lions, but only if he didn’t have another way to make money off you; he hates them like everyone else. And while I couldn’t guarantee that you would actually show up at his smithy, Logan’s an information-monger and I could guarantee that he would realize you were a big payday if you did appear. Also, just because Logan had those trackers chase you out of the pub doesn’t mean he actually told them your identity; in fact I highly doubt he did. You should be thanking the crap out of me,” she says, and I lift an agitated eyebrow.

  I stare at Aarya, not sure if she’s absolutely brilliant and just saved us or if she took a huge gamble that might have resulted in our capture—or worse.

  “But whatever you two did in that pub is another story,” she says, and her tone turns more serious. “What in the hell were you thinking going into that place? And then running out like your butts were on fire?” She shakes her head like she’s embarrassed for me. “Lucky for you, we can stay in this apartment for the time being. Jackals aren’t like the rest of the Strategia—we don’t keep lavish flats in prestigious neighborhoods that are easy to find. We’re smart. We stay in unassuming neighborhoods in unassuming flats, making us much safer here than anywhere else.”

  My eyes widen at the we in her sentence. Why on earth is she here, letting us stay at her Family’s apartment? Aarya is a lot of things, not the least of which is surprising, but I never thought her many unexpected traits would include generosity.

  “Ash and I got a tip that might lead us to my dad and we were following it up,” I say.

  “What kind of tip?” Aarya asks, leaning forward.

  Before I get a chance to answer her, the door opens. Ash comes through holding a couple of shopping bags and a large pizza. My stomach growls at the sight of it. And right beside him is Ines—with her red braids woven into something that resembles a fashionable Mohawk. I do a double take. It makes sense that Aarya wouldn’t come alone, but I’m having a hard time believing that they came here at all.

  Ash smiles, and there’s something so genuine about his happiness that, despite the lingering pain, I smile back.

  “Some Thai, cheesy baked potatoes, and of course…pizza,” he says, putting the bags and box down on the coffee table.

  “Oh man…thank you,” I say, immediately flipping open the pizza box lid and grabbing a slice. The cheese is still piping hot and stretches as I pull it.

  “Americans,” Aarya says with an air of judgment, and reaches for the bag with the Thai food in it.

  “Ines? You’re here. How are you here?” I say with a little bit of awe, scarfing the pizza, which ironically is way better than any I’ve had in America. “Is Felix here, too?”

  Ines shakes her head and for a moment anger flashes in Aarya’s eyes.

  “Felix stayed,” Aarya says without any of her usual embellishment, and it’s clear by her tone that the topic is now closed.

  Ash sits down next to me, scanning me for injury.

  “Have you guys heard anything about my dad since you’ve been in London?” I ask Aarya and Ines, unable to disguise the hope in my voice.

  “We’ve heard about the insanely large bounty on his head,” Aarya says, and whistles. “Jag is not messing around about finding him.”

  Ash gives her a look like she couldn’t be more insensitive if she tried.

  “Your father hasn’t been found,” Ines says, and even though I’ve heard her speak a few times now, the soothing tone of her voice still takes me by surprise. “And with the number of trackers and assassins in London right now, that’s saying something. He must be exceptionally strategic and smart.”

  I smile at her kind reassurance.

  “Which also makes him more difficult to find,” Aarya says, looking at me and Ash. “I assume that’s what we’re doing here, right? Finding your father and using his knowledge about his Family to stamp them out like the vile beasts that they are? But what I want to know is what this tip is you and Ash found.”

  Ash looks at me like he’s surprised I would tell Aarya we found anything. “We don’t know yet,” he says noncommittally.

  Aarya huffs. “Tell me that’s a joke, Ashai, a bad one befitting your subpar sense of humor. Ines and I left the Academy, manipulated Logan for you, and gave you a safe place to stay…so you can’t possibly be withholding information from us, can you?”

  Ash raises an unconvinced eyebrow. “Magnanimous Aarya isn’t one that anyone believes, so don’t waste your energy. And don’t pretend you did us any favors with Logan. You took a risk in finding us, and what you risked was us.”

  I look back and forth between them, wondering how long I’ve been passed out and how much they’ve already argued about this.

  “An ingrate is an ugly thing, Ashai,” Aarya says as she chews. “You don’t agree with him, though, do you, November?”

  I don’t even know where to begin to answer that. There is no way I’m choosing Aarya over Ash, but it’s true that Aarya’s shown up for me in crucial ways recently—I’m not ready to dismiss her flat-out. I look at Ines for clues, but she just sits quietly in the other armchair, eating.

  Ash seems unaffected by Aarya’s blustering. “The better question, Aarya, is why are you here?”

  “To cut Jag’s throat,” Aarya says, like it’s the most logical thing in the world. “So don’t go getting all weepy and sentimental like I’m here for you two out of the kindness of my heart. No one has dared go after Jag like this, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to miss it.”

  “No one thought for the merest of seconds that you were here out of the kindness of your heart,” Ash says, and they continue staring at each other.

  My pulse races at Aarya’s suggestion. I’ve been so focused on the idea of finding my dad and staying hidden that I haven’t fully considered what we’re doing in terms of killing people.

  “Four Academy students taking on the head of the most powerful and ruthless Family,” Aarya says with new enthusiasm. “Can you imagine if we actually pull this off? They’ll write ballads about us.”

  Ash frowns, like he believes her answer but he also believes there is more to it than she’s saying.

  “Now, about that tip?” Aarya says, and looks at me.

  I don’t answer right away.

  “Unless you think you don’t need another two sets of hands?” Aarya presses. “That you and Ash are just so stealthy and skilled that you have this whole thing handled with no need of anyone else.”

  I groan. She knows we’re badly in need of help. And even though Ash doesn’t trust Aarya, it has to say something for her that she left the Academy to come here.

  “Masquerade ball,” I say in a low voice.

  “Masquerade ball?” Aarya repeats, considering the idea.

  “I mentioned it in the pub,” I say, cringing as I remember Hawk’s reaction. “In conversation with the crew. And the response was strong. Hawk said if he saw us there he would hand us straight over to Jag.”

  Aarya whistles. “Great, so not only do we have seventy-two hours or less to prepare for whatever this thing is, but it’s being hosted by Jag and you two idiots essentially told a crew who were working it that you plan to crash it?”

  To my complete surprise, Ash smiles. “Not sure you should join us if you’re afraid of a challenge, Aarya.”

  She raises an eyebrow. “If that’s your way of saying sorry for screwing up—and I mean you—I don’t accept.”

 
“No, that’s my way of saying if you think you’re not good enough, you should stay home,” Ash replies.

  Ines and I look back and forth between them and it occurs to me that this is the one thing Ash and Aarya have in common: they both love to instigate and take on impossible obstacles.

  It also occurs to me that we floated right over something Aarya said. “Hang on, what do you mean, ‘seventy-two hours or less’? How do you know when the ball is going to be when you didn’t even know there was a ball until a minute ago?”

  Aarya looks a little too pleased with herself. “Because no one hires a crew more than a week in advance, with the average being about four days. Anything longer than that compromises security and leaves the crew open to bribes, which is essentially what you two idiots suggested. A crew found accepting a bribe would be executed, so you’re just lucky you got out of there without being cut up and added to the stew.”

  I swallow and look at Ash. No wonder he said not to mention specifics.

  “It was a risk worth taking,” Ash says, even though I’m not sure he should be defending me in this moment. “Without it, we wouldn’t have a lead.”

  Aarya opens her mouth to respond but Ines cuts her off.

  “So a masquerade ball being hosted by Jag is going to take place sometime in the next few days,” she says. “The first thing we need to do is figure out where it’s being hosted. I can think of at least five properties.”

  “We know it’s something extravagant if Jag has several crews working it,” Ash says, dropping his standoff with Aarya. “It’s not your run-of-the-mill Strategia meeting. Plus, the masquerade element suggests a celebration.”

  “I thought Strategia don’t celebrate anything,” I say, a little surprised.

  Ash leans back on the couch. “We don’t celebrate holidays. But we do celebrate weddings, especially when they unite two Families in a political alliance.”