Hunting November

by Adriana Mather

  “You decided to get up at five in the morning and go to the café?” she says with an assessing look.

  I shrug. “Couldn’t sleep,” I say because it’s part of the truth, “and I wanted to get an early start.” I grab one of the hot chocolates out of the carrier, take a sip, and step around her.

  “Hungry?” I say to Ash as Aarya puts the goodies down on the coffee table.

  I plop onto the couch with my drink and the paper in hand, momentarily reminded of Sunday mornings with my dad. When I was little he would give me the funnies, but in recent years we would just trade sections back and forth, reading from one end to the other. Of course the news app on my phone is more comprehensive than the paper, but there was something about the ritual of it that we both enjoyed.

  Ash rubs his face and reaches for a coffee, but Aarya eyes me warily.

  “So what have you come up with?” she asks.

  “Huh?” I say, not sure what she’s getting at.

  “You couldn’t sleep and you wanted to get an early start, so you must have been cycling through new ideas. What are they?” she asks, and I can only hope the aggression is a holdover from our conversation last night and that she doesn’t suspect more.

  Ash looks from me to Aarya and frowns, but when he looks back in my direction there’s a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes. I’m one lie away from them knowing I’m hiding something.

  I take a sip of my warm drink, buying myself a few seconds. “Well,” I say, frantically searching for something I can tell them that will both be believable and distract from whatever signals of deception I’m unconsciously giving off. “I was thinking…the Lions accused my dad of killing the Regent, right? And while I know that’s untrue, I do wonder if he was involved.”

  Aarya tilts her head and I can tell that at the very least I’ve caught her interest. “Go on.”

  “See, not long before my dad sent me to the Academy, he was making frequent trips to see my aunt Jo—my mother’s sister—the one the Lion Family killed shortly after I arrived at the Academy,” I say. “I never really questioned it before—well, not in this way, anyway—but now I’m wondering, what if my dad didn’t commit the act himself but was still involved in the planning?” And now that I’ve said it, I wonder how I could have previously missed this.

  Ash joins me on the couch with his coffee. “Are you suggesting that it was your aunt who assassinated the Regent?”

  I look at Ash, coming to terms with what I suspect is the truth. “I am. And I think her death was retaliation.” I swallow. “The thing is…all this time I’ve been assuming that the Lions were hunting my family and that’s what prompted my dad to send me to the Academy. But I don’t think that’s exactly accurate. If my dad and my aunt were somehow responsible for taking out the Regent, then it had to have been planned. Which means that my trip to the Academy was also planned. Maybe for years.” What I don’t say is that it’s just one more item in a long list of lies from my dad.

  “This helps,” Ash says. “This is a piece of the puzzle that we were missing—the event that started the whole chain reaction. Now we have some context.”

  “What are you thinking?” I ask.

  “Well, for starters it tells us that the clues he left for you aren’t the trail of bread crumbs left by a man in hiding; they’ve been carefully planned and executed,” Ash says, and I can almost see the gears in his head turning. “It explains why he knew Logan’s sign was there, and also gave him time to make a negotiation that would have Angus point you to it.”

  “That makes sense,” I say, and while I’m happy to have more information, I’m not thrilled with the revelation that my dad had always planned to leave me behind at the Academy and then make it nearly impossible to follow him.

  “If he and your aunt had planned to take out the Regent, there is still the question of why now?” Ash says. “Something must have prompted the timing.”

  Aarya nods, wiping a smear of melted chocolate from her croissant off the corner of her mouth.

  “While we don’t know why he acted now, we do know your father must have had an alliance within the Lion Family,” Ines says as she enters the living room and grabs a coffee. “He would have needed inside information to successfully plan the Regent assassination.”

  We all sit there for a few seconds, considering the new development.

  “Well, one thing is for sure,” Aarya says. “We need to get to work. If your dad planned this for what I’m assuming is years, and part of his plan is for us to go to the Lion ball, then we damn well better deliver.” She stands. “I’m going to make us a frittata, and then we’ll get to it.”

  Ash sips his coffee, lost in thought, and I unfold the newspaper with a snap, looking for something comforting and familiar more than feeling any desire to read the news. I straighten out the pages, but before I even read the top headline I sit straight up, nearly spilling my drink down my shirt. There on the bottom left-hand side of the page is a photo with a caption under it that reads: Displaced lions confuse zoo workers.

  “Uh, guys…,” I say, and spread the page out on the coffee table in front of me.

  Ash immediately moves closer.

  “ ‘London Zoo Lion Family Mysteriously Found in the Wrong Habitat,’ ” I say, reading the headline.

  Aarya reappears in the doorway.

  I continue reading out loud. “ ‘The much-adored pride of lions at the London Zoo were discovered at eight a.m. on Christmas Day as having swapped habitats with the antelopes. What is baffling the local authorities is that based on footprints, the swap seems to have been orchestrated by a single individual. “One man or woman moving four lions and six antelope alone without injury or incident is nothing if not astounding,” says the zoo director. “Even our best animal curator couldn’t accomplish such a feat.” The local police have reviewed the security cameras but have no clear images of this magical intruder. The animals have been returned to their rightful cages and are healthy and happy, the zoo director assures us, and then jokes that “It’s an odd day indeed when the prey supplants the predator.” ’ ”

  Aarya leans over the coffee table, casting a shadow on the paper, and to my surprise, she starts laughing. “Oh my god, that’s brilliant. Tell me that was your father.”

  I look up, not sure if I find this amusing or further disorienting. “Has to be, right?” I say, figuring if it were Layla and Matteo, they would have said something earlier. “It was timed so the story would run in the Sunday paper, which my dad and I always read together. But what does it mean?”

  “Are you kidding? It’s a blatant warning to the Lions,” Aarya says.

  “Obviously,” I say. “But what else?”

  “The timing,” Ash says. “Your father killed the Regent and timed this to coincide with Jag’s new appointment.”

  Brendan, I think, but I don’t say it.

  I stare at the article. “So then he’s trying to provoke Jag.”

  “Definitely,” Aarya agrees. “And clearly he wants it to be public. Well, not public public, but Strategia public. He’s taking a shot at Jag’s reputation, making the point that he’s not as untouchable as we all think. Your dad has flair.”

  Does he, though? It’s not that I disagree with Aarya’s assessment, but the person she’s describing doesn’t sound like my dad.

  I reread the short article, looking for some other meaning or something that makes sense to me. But I find nothing and am left once again feeling like the person I thought was my dad is a lie.

  ASH, AARYA, INES, and I sit in the cab silently. I lean against the window, watching the lit-up London streets as we go. I slip my hands in my sweatshirt pockets, still bummed we couldn’t bring our coats. Aarya insisted we’d have no place to stash them after sneaking into the hotel—no place we could guarantee that we’d get them back, anyway. I slowly press the butto
ns on my cell phone in my pocket, typing On way into a text message to Layla and Matteo.

  I’ve been updating them all day, piece by piece as the planning came together, an action I initially imagined would be reassuring. But Layla only proceeded to find fault with every strategy. And the whole thing felt odd, like I was a double agent of sorts, erasing all evidence of our texts and not telling Ash, Aarya, and Ines what I was doing.

  I keep my hand on the phone, but I can’t tell if they’ve replied because I set it to silent. I chew on the inside of my cheek, and my thoughts drift back to what Matteo said about me being selfish. I want to push against it, denying that it could be true, given the countless risks I’ve taken in the past month. But I’m also not sure I can argue that my actions had a higher purpose beyond staying alive and protecting my dad.

  The cab stops, interrupting my train of thought. We pile out about five blocks from the hotel and I can feel the reassuring pressure of the knife stashed in my boot as I step onto the sidewalk. I gently touch the rope tied to my belt and readjust the backpack on my shoulder, which is full but light, stuffed with my ball gown and mask. The air is unusually biting, given our lack of layers, but no one seems to notice.

  Ines and I walk behind Ash and Aarya down the busy London sidewalk populated by a fashionable late-night dinner crowd and upscale bar patrons. Spirits are running high and holiday lights are everywhere. Ever since we exited the cab Ash and Aarya have been arguing about what route to take, which is impressive, considering it already took us an hour to agree on one earlier.

  Ines walks casually, like she doesn’t have a care in the world, but her eyes are so alert, I wouldn’t be surprised if she could describe the last fifty people we’ve passed from memory. I, too, scan the crowd, looking for the signature hawkish Strategia eyes that are out of place in otherwise relaxed behavior.

  It occurs to me how markedly different my life is in this moment. I must have walked down the street with a group of friends a thousand times in Pembrook, laughing and talking. And here I am now, walking with another group of friends, but on my way to sneak into a ball in London where the penalty for getting caught crashing is certain death.

  Now only one building away from the hotel on the opposite side of the street, I can see two men dressed as security guards outside the front entrance. One is unusually large, with copper hair, and the other is slender, with a ponytail.

  Hawk’s crew!

  I glance at Ash, who I can tell shares my concern by the worry line in his forehead. As if it wasn’t going to be hard enough to sneak into a huge, well-lit, well-guarded property, now we have people who will not only recognize us but threatened that they would hand us over to Jag.

  I pull my hoodie up, better shadowing my face, and we cross the street right at the corner of the hotel and far too close to the guards for comfort. Eddie and Willy scan the sidewalk in front of them, taking note of every person nearing the door. Eddie looks in our direction. I loop my arm through Ines’s and lean my face on her shoulder, laughing—a casual pose Emily and I often assumed and one that is typically un-Strategia. Eddie looks right past us and we continue down the street running along the side of the hotel, slipping out of his line of sight. I stand up straight once more and Ines gives me a curious nod of approval. And even though I’m fairly certain we went unnoticed, I do a quick glance over my shoulder just to be sure.

  The hotel property is sprawling and takes up an entire city block, but the building itself is only about four stories tall. We circle down the side of it, around the back where the hotel presses up against a park with gardens and tall trees, and continue past it and around the other side. All the entrances save the main one are closed, with signs that redirect patrons to the front of the building. For a moment I think maybe we’ve had a stroke of luck and that there will be fewer guards to navigate around.

  “Unfortunate,” Ash says. “With Hawk’s crew at a singular entrance, it will make it nearly impossible to get out if something goes wrong.”

  Aarya stares at Ash from under lowered eyebrows. “That was Hawk’s crew? I guess this is what I get for pairing up with you two against my better judgment.”

  I slip my hand in my pocket.

  Me: All entrances blocked but front. Need distraction for guards in case we have to run for it.

  And the second I type it, I’m exceedingly grateful Layla decided to follow us.

  “I still say it would be simpler to pick one of the locks on the side doors instead of counting on November’s climbing skills,” Aarya continues, keeping her voice down and giving me a wary look.

  Ash shakes his head. “And risk coming face to face with a security guard who is likely guarding the inside of that door? No thanks.”

  “A guard we could easily knock out with Angels’ Dream,” Aarya says, bringing up one of the many options we disagreed on earlier.

  “Aarya, we already decided,” Ines says calmly, the same way you might remind a child to pick up their toys.

  Aarya frowns at Ines. “No loyalty, I swear.”

  And so we retrace our steps to the back of the building where it adjoins the park.

  “Well, let’s just hope November doesn’t screw this up,” Aarya adds, but no one responds.

  We walk close to the hotel wall, stopping under a balcony leading to a second-story room. From what I can tell from the ground, the lights are out and the curtains are drawn. We take a quick scan of the park to make sure no one is nearby. We all look at each other in silent agreement that this one will do.

  “Ready?” Ash says, and I nod.

  Ines faces the park, scanning for possible onlookers, and Aarya stands with her arms crossed and a sour expression. She’s been resisting me all day, and I have no idea why. Maybe she never got over her suspicion about me being out so early this morning, or maybe she’s still pissed that I don’t want to rip Jag’s head off with my teeth. It’s hard to tell.

  I grab the white stone of the wall and hoist myself up. There is a fair amount of decorative work and the grooves around each stone are deep enough that climbing the wall is no problem; I could grip these handholds in my sleep.

  I wedge my boots on a small ledge, pushing up, and grab the second-floor railing. I get a good hold with both hands and swing my legs over the side, landing silently on the stone balcony. I sweep my eyes over the park below. A group of four twentysomethings, all wearing Santa hats and talking too loudly, walk along one of the park paths. I look below and my friends have shifted to casual poses and appear to be chatting.

  The instant the loud group passes, I grab the rope off my belt, tie it securely around the railing with a tight double knot, and drop it down to them. Ash is the first one up and he winks at me.

  “Brilliant work,” he whispers, and I smile back at him. It feels kind of exhilarating, getting to use my climbing abilities.

  Ash pulls out his lock-picking tools, and by the time Aarya and Ines climb up, he’s got the door open.

  Ines unties the rope from the railing and we all step inside, locking the door behind us. Even in the dark, I can tell that the room is luxurious. There are heavy drapes on the windows, a king-sized bed with a high headboard and a chaise lounge at the foot of it, and an open door leading to an equally lavish sitting room. Suitcases lie open on wooden luggage racks, and in one of them I spot the corner of a masquerade mask. My pulse quickens at the sight of it. We’re in a Strategia’s room. I creep to the door leading into the sitting room and peek through. All is silent, but for how long?

  Aarya eyes the suitcase. “Let’s get on with it and get the hell out of here,” she whispers, and I know she must see the mask, too.

  Ash ducks into the sitting room and I head into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me. I take off my backpack and unzip it. The black-and-white tulle skirt explodes out of the opening—I had quite the time compressing it earlier this evening. I pul
l out the dress and yank off my sweatshirt, tying it securely around my waist. I tuck my gloves into my jean pockets and my hat into my left boot, so as not to crowd the knife in my right boot. I slip the dress over my head and wiggle into the form-fitting black bodice. The tulle is so puffy that it completely conceals my jeans and my tied sweatshirt below.

  I grab my phone and unlock it. There is a message from Layla waiting for me.

  Layla: We have you covered. Waiting nearby.

  Me: In. Won’t be able to read responses here on out. Wish us luck.

  It only takes a moment for her to reply.

  Layla: Understood. And it’s not luck; it’s skill.

  I smile at the text before erasing the thread and shove the phone into a hidden pocket in my skirt—something Ines added for us to conceal our weapons and the ointment, and a lucky break for me.

  I exit the bathroom just as Aarya is helping Ines smooth a wig over her signature red hair. In a matter of minutes, we’re all in formal wear, save our boots, and I tie on my black-and-white mask. It covers my entire face except the underside of my nose and my mouth.

  Ash returns from the living room wearing a long velvet cape pushed back over one shoulder and a mask that appears to be sculpted out of gold leaf. I stare at him in awe while he collects our backpacks and steps out onto the balcony, tossing them down into a nearby bush.

  He closes the sliding balcony door, and the moment the lock clicks into place, muffled voices come from the hallway. Ines runs to the hallway door with fast silent steps. She peers through the peephole and we all stand poised to flee—although climbing down this building covered in copious amounts of tulle would be a good way to break a bone.

  Ines turns around. “It’s clear,” she whispers, and I let out a huge sigh of relief.