“I don’t know,” Dex admitted. “I swear they worked when I tested them. It’s like . . . something’s interfering somehow—almost like . . . ohhhhhhh.”
“What?” Fitz demanded as Dex mumbled a string of words none of them could understand.
Dex swallowed hard, looking genuinely sorry as he pointed to Sophie’s cloak pin. “It must be the null. I bet it’s blocking the tech around you.”
Sophie’s heart stopped. “But . . . the bracelet was still getting Alvar’s signal—and I’ve been able to use my Imparter.”
“Receiving’s different than sending—and Imparters utilize a whole other kind of frequency.” Dex pressed his fist into his head, muttering to himself about how he should’ve thought of that.
“But—” Sophie tried to argue.
“We don’t have time for this,” Wylie warned. “Just get rid of the pin and let’s go find Alvar—and the Neverseen.”
“He’s right,” Tam, Linh, and Marella all agreed.
So did Tarina, who yanked the null off Sophie’s cloak when she saw how hard Sophie’s hands were shaking.
Dex dismantled it faster than a gremlin. “That was definitely the problem.”
Sophie’s eyes burned from the disgust on Fitz’s face—and she knew what he had to be thinking: If she hadn’t talked him into meeting up with her before he pressed the Warden’s button, none of this would be happening.
“Hey,” Keefe said, reaching for her hand and filling her head with another calming breeze.
She hadn’t noticed that she still wasn’t wearing her gloves, and part of her wondered if she should tap her fingers to turn on Tinker’s fingernail gadgets.
But what if those caused some other huge, unexpected problem?
“The good news,” Dex said, “is this means the Warden’s still working. So Alvar has to be on the property.”
“Yeah, and I’m sure he’s busy helping the Neverseen do whatever creepy thing they came here to do—just like Gethen said he would.” Fitz punched the air, sending red splattering from his wounded fist.
“Or . . . maybe Alvar’s just scared of you,” Linh suggested. “You did come pretty close to killing him. Maybe he figured he should disappear until everything calmed down.”
“It’s possible,” Marella agreed. “Just because he’s gone doesn’t mean he’s helping the enemy. He seemed pretty against that.”
He had. But . . . that was before something happened that no one else seemed to have noticed. And Sophie was tempted to leave it that way—tempted to keep everyone in the dark until she knew for sure, since it was only going to make Fitz hate her more than he already did.
But if she was right, her friends needed to know what they were dealing with. So she forced herself to blurt out, “I think Alvar might’ve gotten his memories back.”
Biana wrapped her arms around herself. “You mean when he collapsed and groaned like that?”
Sophie nodded.
“What was the trigger?” Fitz asked, and it was the calm in his voice that got her, like he’d moved beyond rage to a scary sort of numb.
“I can only guess,” she told him quietly. “But . . . it might’ve been the sound of Vespera’s voice. That’d explain why she stayed silent up until then—which seemed super weird—and why Alvar reacted as soon as he heard it.”
“That makes sense,” Wylie agreed. “And it’s pretty smart, actually, since it’s something they knew Alvar wouldn’t hear until they wanted his memories to come back.”
Fitz’s laugh was dark and cold—followed by a sharp intake of breath. And he rubbed his chest as his eyes focused on Sophie. “If he hurts someone, it’s on—”
“He won’t,” Keefe jumped in, saving Sophie from finding out if Fitz had been planning to end that sentence with “you” or “us.” “You’re tracking him, right, Foster?”
“Trying to,” she said, choking down a huge lump in her throat as she stretched out her consciousness again.
“You can do that while you move, right?” Keefe asked, turning to the others when she nodded. “Good. Then I say we follow where Ro led the rest, since he might be heading the same way. And if we need to change course, let us know, okay, Foster?”
She nodded again, and Keefe reached for her hand. “Relax. You’ve got this,” he promised, sending one more soothing breeze into her head before he took off running.
Everyone followed, racing down the path, which grew darker and darker the farther they moved away from the glowing gate—until they could only see a few feet in front of them.
Sophie fought to keep up, but the mental multitasking slowed her down. And she soon found herself running next to Fitz at the back of their group, since he was still dealing with his healing leg.
He didn’t say anything.
Didn’t even look at her.
And she couldn’t blame him, after everything that had happened.
It also wasn’t the time to talk things out, so she let her regret fuel her determination as she pushed her consciousness farther and farther and farther, until . . .
“I found him!” she called. “And we’re heading the right way!”
“Great,” Fitz snorted. “So he went right to the Neverseen.”
“I know,” Sophie said quietly. “I’m—”
“You realize where we’re going, right?” he interrupted. “This path goes straight to the main gate.”
Sophie’s stomach twisted.
“His DNA won’t open it, though,” Biana reminded them. “Plus, maybe . . .”
“Maybe what?” Fitz pressed.
Biana sighed. “Maybe he’s not cooperating as much as you think he is. Just because he got his memories back doesn’t mean—”
“You need to stop thinking like that, right now,” Fitz interrupted. “I mean it—if he was with us on this, he wouldn’t have run off—”
“But—”
“NO!” Fitz snapped. “If you’re still deluding yourself into thinking he’s on our side, you might as well hang back right here, because you’re going to turn this into a bigger mess than it already is.”
Sophie couldn’t help wondering if he really meant the words for her—especially since a tiny part of her had to agree with what Biana was saying.
But that wasn’t what mattered at the moment.
They could figure out what side Alvar was on once they caught up with him. For now, they needed to start working together again. So she closed her eyes for a beat—which wasn’t a smart thing to do when running, but she could barely see through the darkness anyway. And it made it easier to whisper to him, “I’m sorry, Fitz.”
For several long seconds the only sounds were gasping breaths and pounding feet as their whole group seemed to wait for Fitz’s response. And just when Sophie thought he wasn’t going to acknowledge her, he said, “I don’t blame you.”
There wasn’t a whole lot of warmth in his voice.
But it was progress.
And it would have to be enough for the moment, because the path was curving again, and when they rounded the bend they spotted a halo of light up ahead.
“That’s from the gate, right?” Dex asked.
Sophie hoped so. But . . . it had a whitish hue.
“Fan out,” Keefe said under his breath. “We need to make Ruy trap us one by one. Hopefully that’ll buy us a little time.”
“Ruy should be our prime target,” Wylie added as they all reached for weapons. “He’s their safety net.”
Sophie knew he was right, and she told herself to aim for black cloaks as she grabbed a throwing star. But as soon as she burst into the clearing, all she could see was Alvar standing over by the gate’s control panel, and . . . she let her weapon fly, holding her breath as it arced perfectly toward the panel, hopefully hard enough to damage the sensor and . . .
. . . it sparked off of a new force field that sprang up around Alvar.
Another force field trapped her a second later, and she threw herself backward to avoid crashing into t
he shocking energy.
Only then did she take stock of her situation, and . . . it wasn’t good news.
Her friends and Tarina were all snared under glowing domes of their own—she didn’t know how Ruy could work so fast—and Sandor, Grizel, Woltzer, Ro, and Lovise were trapped under another, looking scratched and bruised.
Meanwhile, Gethen, Ruy, Vespera, and Umber were completely unscathed as they stood in the safety of their own shield, waiting just outside the gate.
And Alvar . . . he wasn’t standing by the panel empty-handed. He was holding a bloody scrap of fabric that Sophie took a second to recognize.
Fitz’s missing bandage.
Covered in plenty of his DNA.
Which . . . seemed like a pretty clear statement of which side Alvar had chosen.
His timid, mournful expression was also gone, replaced with his old familiar arrogance. As if someone had flipped a switch and the old Alvar was back—just like that.
“You made it in time for the main event,” Vespera said when her eyes locked with Sophie’s.
“And you’ll be staying right there,” Ruy added, flashing fresh layers to the force fields that Tam, Wylie, and Dex were already attacking.
“So go ahead, Alvar,” Gethen called. “We all know how much you’ve gone through to get to this moment. Time to fulfill your assignment—”
“Hang on,” Keefe interrupted, turning to Alvar. “You seriously allowed them to erase your memories, torture you, drug you, abandon you, almost kill you—and let you rot for months in a miserable prison cell—all in hopes that the Council would move you back to Everglen so you could . . . open a gate?”
“It was not about the task,” Vespera answered for Alvar. “It was about proving his value.”
“By opening a gate,” Keefe insisted. “That’s . . . the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”
Sophie had to agree.
But Alvar held his head high, holding his same arrogant expression, and even Biana looked like she was starting to accept that the old Alvar had fully returned.
More important, though: Keefe’s stalling had given Wylie, Tam, and Dex a chance to make progress on dismantling the force fields holding them. So Sophie asked Gethen, “Nobody could think of an easier way to get into Everglen? I can think of five off the top of my head.”
“And they all take, like, two minutes, right?” Keefe asked her.
“Probably less,” Sophie corrected.
Vespera shrugged, knocking one of her golden sleeves off her shoulder. “If someone is willing to jump through ridiculous hoops to prove their loyalty, who am I to stop them? Alvar created the plan himself.”
Keefe turned back to the eldest Vacker. “So, wait. You said, ‘Hey, I know! Why don’t you slice me up with a shamkniv—’ ”
“That was his punishment for the problem he created,” Vespera corrected, “which I was very generous to allow him a chance to redeem himself for.”
“Sure,” Keefe agreed, rolling his eyes. “Full body torture seems like a totally reasonable punishment for . . . What was the problem again? A locked gate?”
“It was not any locked gate,” Vespera argued. “It was a locked gate that he would have had ready access to, had he kept his identity hidden the way Ruy and Umber did, rather than following Fintan’s foolish lead. So I told him that I did not care how he fixed it, just that he did by the night of the festival.”
“What does the festival have to do with anything?” Biana asked.
“You’ll see soon enough,” Gethen told her. “And we’re wasting too much time. Go ahead, Alvar.”
“SERIOUSLY?” Sophie shouted as Alvar reached for the gate’s sensor. Even if he had chosen his side—maybe she could change his mind. “After all the times you swore you’d never go back to their cause, even if you got your memories back. All the times you swore you wanted to make them pay for the scars they carved into you. All the horrors they let you suffer through—you’re just going to fall right back into the role they want you to play.”
“Never underestimate the power of a total-memory flashback,” Gethen told her. “It’s the perfect mental reset.
“Okay, that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” Sophie said, keeping her focus on Alvar. “This is crazy. You’re not some robot that needs resetting. You’re a person with a brain and . . . and feelings. And you know this is wrong. I know you know it—even if you don’t want to admit it. Just like I know you don’t want to go back to being that creepy person everyone hated.”
Alvar tilted his chin higher, but she could see the tremble in his jaw—a tiny crack in his facade. Proof that this truly wasn’t over as long as the gate wasn’t open.
She leaned closer, holding his stare as she added, “The Council gave you a second chance—and you haven’t blown it yet. You could stop this right now and prove you really are the better person you’ve been claiming to be. Think about the life you could have—how happy you could be. Think about how happy you would make your family.”
And that was the moment she lost him.
“You want to talk about my family?” he snapped, his features angling into hard lines. “And I don’t mean the brother who would’ve been happy to murder me about ten minutes ago—though that was eye-opening. And I don’t mean the sister who would’ve stood by and let him do it while shedding a few pretty tears, either. I don’t even mean the parents who’ve only been so supportive recently because they know they all but phased me out of their lives the moment they chose to have more children. No, that’s only the beginning of the glorious Vacker legacy—and that’s why I did this. Tonight, I finally get to show everyone who the Vackers truly are—and my bratty little brother and sister get to watch.”
“Alvar asked that his reward for fulfilling this assignment be that I allow you to join us for the big reveal,” Vespera told Sophie and her friends. “And I will keep my word, so long as you stay on your best behavior. Your goblins will be staying here—as will your ogre. But I will allow the troll to come with you, since I am curious to see her reaction as well. And if I detect anything untoward, I will let Umber show you exactly how much pain she can trigger with shadowflux—and trust me, you cannot even begin to fathom it. Understood?”
She waited for each of them to nod before she told Alvar, “Let us in.”
Alvar bowed his head, and Sophie’s heart turned heavier and heavier as he smeared Fitz’s blood on the sensor and the gates swung slowly inward, letting Gethen, Vespera, Ruy, and Umber stride smoothly into the property.
“And just in case you’re still thinking you’ll find a way to be heroes,” Gethen added, “allow me to introduce your escorts for this journey into the Vacker family history.”
He whistled through his teeth and the earth rumbled softly, sending all the goblins leaping to their feet.
Sophie braced for an army of dwarves, but when the ground opened up, four of the biggest, scariest ogres she’d ever seen marched toward them, licking their pointed black teeth.
FIFTY
WELL, IF IT ISN’T OUR mighty princess—cowering with a bunch of worthless goblins!” the tallest ogre of the four said as he circled the force field that Ro, Sandor, Grizel, Lovise, and Woltzer were currently trapped in. “Seems fitting, doesn’t it?”
The other three ogres grunted and jeered.
They each wore spiked metal diapers, spiked shin guards, and spiked forearm bracers—but the ogre harassing Ro had two swords instead of one, both strapped across his massive back in crisscrossed sheaths. Swirls of tattoos decorated his chest, and his head had a thin shock of slicked white hair.
Ro studied her painted claws, not bothering to look at him as she said, “I don’t know, Cadfael. It seems much more fitting that you let the Neverseen call for you like you’re their little pet. Do you do tricks for them if they toss you a treat? Is that what today is?”
Cadfael raised one of his eyebrows—which was pierced with four silver spikes. “You want to talk about pets? I hear you
spend your days serving at the heels of some scrawny, worthless brat.” He glanced over his shoulder at Sophie and her friends. “It’s the one in the middle, isn’t it? He keeps glaring at me.” He swaggered over, and Sophie found herself feeling grateful for the force fields around them when Cadfael stepped right in front of Keefe. “Oh yeah, it’s definitely this one. Look at the way his little hands are all curled up like he wants to punch me.”
“Actually, I was thinking more about cutting off that ruby,” Keefe told him, pointing to a large stone pierced through the skin on Cadfael’s stomach, right above the dip of his spiked metal diaper. “I could keep it with the jewel I sliced out of Dimitar’s ear when I beat him at sparring. And I’d be doing you a favor, ’cause, dude, that is not a good look.”
Bad idea to anger the scary ogre, Sophie transmitted.
See, and I think it sounds like a whole lot of fun, Keefe countered.
He didn’t even blink when Cadfael drew a dagger from a sheath hidden in one of his bracers and said, “I bet Ro likes that smart mouth of yours. So maybe I should cut out your tongue.”
Keefe smirked. “I’m pretty sure she’d thank you for that.”
“I would,” Ro agreed.
Cadfael gritted his teeth. “Then maybe I should gut him, so you have to crawl home to Daddy—or your pathetic husband.”
“No gutting today,” Gethen cut in as Sophie’s stomach turned all kinds of sour. “We have a different message to send.”
“And if you want your payment, I suggest you cooperate,” Vespera added to Cadfael.
“Oh, so you are getting a treat!” Ro said, standing up and clapping her hands. “Tell me, Cad—what’s the going rate for treason these days?”
“Anything I want.” He sheathed his dagger and turned back to face her. “That’s the beauty of setting my own rules. But have fun sulking with your goblins.”
“Are we ready?” Ruy asked.
Vespera turned back to Sophie. “Since you have all started arming yourselves, I expect you to empty your pockets before we go. Same goes for you, troll.”
Sophie’s chest tightened with each weapon she was forced to toss aside. But she managed to keep one dagger and a couple of throwing stars in the hidden pockets in her boots—and she hoped her friends were able to do the same.
Flashback (Keeper of the Lost Cities Book 7) Page 57
