Everyone stayed silent until we reached the elevators. Roxy hit the down button.
“Have a good night,” I called in her direction.
“Yeah, sweet friggin’ dreams,” she muttered. The rest of the crew shook their heads, trying to laugh through their sighs.
As they filed into the elevator, my brother, Gina, and I split from the group, heading toward the giant metal door that always reminded me that my bed was close.
Zach pulled his ID from his suit’s breast pocket and pressed it against a dark gray pad on the wall. Three low beeps rang out, and a clunk sounded through the hall as the door unlocked. I reached to pull down the handle, but Zach slapped my hand.
“Take it easy, gimp.” He grinned.
I rolled my eyes while he pulled the massive door open, and we started down a much smaller hallway into the residential staff apartments. I wonder if Mom and Dad are still awake.
The narrow white walls of the base’s family housing were lined with sporadically placed numbered doorways. Zach and Gina pulled ahead of me. Whether I wanted to admit it or not, my pace was a little slower than usual.
Gina glanced back over her shoulder. “Want an arm?”
“I’m good,” I assured her.
We finally reached 237. Zach once again pulled out his ID, pressed it to the pad, and opened the door to our family’s apartment. I faintly smelled casserole. Zach made a beeline for the kitchen and started making himself a plate.
“I’ll have a bite and then head to my apartment, if there’s enough,” Gina said, unlacing her boots beside me in the entryway.
“Mom always makes a full tray. Lyra, you want a plate?” Zach called.
“Not really hungry,” I said, carefully bending over to untie my own boots.
Gina eyed me. “You need to lie down.”
I nodded to acknowledge her concern but said nothing—I didn’t want her going into mothering mode.
She half-smiled. “You and your brother. So damn stubborn. I’ll see you at the ass-crack of dawn, Lyra,” she said, accepting the plate of casserole Zach handed her.
I waved over my shoulder as I headed toward my bedroom, assuming my parents were asleep.
I was aware that most twenty-one-year-olds in America didn’t live with their parents, but most people in America didn’t grow up as second-generation OB soldiers. Bureau base housing was limited, so until Zach and I had families of our own, we shared quarters with our parents. Honestly, we were all so busy that we didn’t see much of each other on a daily basis.
Halfway down the hall, I noticed a light shining under the closed living room door—and heard voices.
The sound of my mother’s sharp tone halted my breath and footsteps. She rarely spoke above a gentle hum, albeit a hum that commanded respect. When I could hear her through a closed door, something was wrong.
I couldn’t make out her words, so I inched closer. I heard my father’s voice interject, lower and slower than my mother’s but just as severe. I held my breath, now able to make out the words.
“I don’t understand how the board hasn’t taken action on this yet,” my mom snapped. “It’s unacceptable. This is not how the Bureau is supposed to conduct itself.”
My heart jumped at another familiar voice, calm and thick as caramel. Uncle Alan. “Don’t be so quick to judge, Miriam. We’re dealing with something we don’t understand yet.”
It was hard to hear what they were saying over Zach and Gina chatting in the kitchen. Quiet. Quiet! I squeezed my eyes shut and focused on the living room door—after all, it wasn’t like I could shush my brother and his girlfriend so I could snoop better.
Uncle Alan dropped his voice, and Zach’s fork scraping his plate from the kitchen drowned out my uncle’s words. Several moments passed, but I remained frozen.
My mother gasped. “Unbelievable.” My heart pounded so loudly in my ears that her higher timbre was the only thing I could distinguish.
Uncle Alan raised his voice an octave in response to my mother’s concern but then cleared his throat and returned to his hushed tone. “These are the facts we have. Like I’ve explained, even these vague details are strictly secret.”
My mother didn’t like her brother’s response, apparently, because her voice peaked again, cracking this time. “People’s lives are at stake! How could the Bureau keep something so dangerous a secret?! You and your damned red tape. Papers and signatures aren’t more important than human lives!”
This time my father joined in. “How many more soldiers need to throw themselves at these monsters before we get this under control? These are our children. Your niece and nephew, Alan.”
“Miriam, Russell,” Uncle Alan replied calmly. “We all know why the Bureau has to do this. Something like this getting out could be catastrophic. I understand your concern. But letting this information reach anyone else’s ears is out of the question. There’s a reason it took me so long to tell you. And that only happened because of your promotion last month, Russell.”
I bit my lip, and my eyes widened. My father was the new Head of Defense Technology.
“You are the only ones not on the board who know anything about this at all,” my uncle offered.
A heavy silence fell in the room. I started to feel lightheaded from holding my breath.
Uncle Alan continued, his usual sweetness now turned slightly rigid. “Stability and calm are the most important things for the Bureau, this country—and the globe—right now.”
Guilt knotted my stomach. I was beginning to get uncomfortable about eavesdropping for so long.
I cleared my throat and knocked softly on the living room door. My mother’s voice became a hurried whisper, and my father called out, “Yes, we’re in here.”
I pushed the door open to reveal three weak attempts at smiles.
“Hi, everyone,” I said cautiously.
My uncle sat in the armchair to my left, across the coffee table from my parents. His platinum hair was slicked back in its usual fashion, his trim gray suit predictably impeccable, even at this late hour. He whisked two papers from the coffee table into the depths of his shiny leather briefcase, but not before I recognized the emblem in the header: Bureau nondisclosure paperwork.
“Lyra! We weren’t expecting you home so early,” he said warmly, and I couldn’t help but smile back at him. No matter how tired I was, I always had extra energy for Uncle Alan. “A successful operation tonight, I hope?” he asked, wavering slightly as he stood with the help of his cane.
The memory of crashing into frigid water jolted my mind. “Mostly.”
My parents weren’t as good as my uncle when it came to pretending nothing was wrong. I met their worried eyes, looking at each of them in turn. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes, Lyra, we’re fine,” my mother said, her usual tenderness returning. She smoothed over her pixie cut with a hand. “Come and sit with us.”
I moved to join my parents, teetering lightly, but mostly from exhaustion at that point.
My father eyed me with concern. “Are you hurt?”
“Nah, she’s just being a baby.” Zach followed me into the living room. “Big Bird got the best of ya tonight, didn’t he?”
I shot him a glare and eased onto the couch. My muscles sighed with relief as I sank into the cushions.
“Lyra enjoyed her first snatch-n-fly tonight, didn’t you, sis?” Zach smiled.
“Are you okay?” my mother asked.
“Oh, she’s totally great.” Zach nonchalantly leaned a hand on the back of Uncle Alan’s chair. “She and birdie even went swimming together!”
If my knives had still been attached to my leg, they would’ve gone flying. I kept my eyes locked on my smirking sibling, glaring the daggers I couldn’t throw, while I explained to my horrified parents. “We’d hit the target multiple times, and I thought it was eradicated, but it bounced back and caught me off guard. It was the biggest redbill I’ve ever seen.”
My parents tried to stay stoic, but t
hey exchanged a glance. Zach’s grin faded, and his eyes darkened. Uncle Alan wrung his hands.
“I need to get to bed,” I said, breaking the sudden quiet I’d created.
“The Scottish ogre is calling us in at four a.m.,” Zach said, stretching his arms toward the ceiling.
“Special summons in D.C., apparently,” I added, rising from the couch.
My mother sighed. “It’s always something these days.”
“Get plenty of rest, you two,” Uncle Alan said.
I smiled again, entirely for my parents’ sake this time. They suddenly looked fragile… older than I’d ever seen them, and so much smaller than they did when addressing soldiers and coworkers at the Bureau.
I steadily lumbered down the hall to my bedroom. The mere sight of my bed was pure bliss. The weight of the day had finally taken over. I was thankful that the ache from my leg had started to quiet.
Too exhausted to change, I slid into bed in my uniform fleeces. I’d had to sleep in much less comfortable uniforms, that was for sure.
But I didn’t sleep. All I could manage was staring at the ceiling, counting the circles of my ceiling fan and listening to the nighttime hums of our residence. Every time I closed my eyes, I felt the redbill’s claws wrapped around my body, saw the dark feathers looming as I tilted my head back… and all I could hear was my mother’s protest. Papers and signatures aren’t more important than human lives…
I didn’t know exactly what I’d overheard in the living room, but something didn’t feel right.
Chapter Three
Our seats vibrated as the chopper carried us over the still-sleeping territory below. The tiny window behind my head offered only dimly lit veins of highways and the deep violet and bronze of sunrise.
We’d transferred off the Bureau plane outside of D.C. and would only be in the chopper for a few more minutes. The team was in our usual circle, though somewhat cramped in the smaller aircraft, listening silently as Captain Bryce gave us the rundown. His tone was sharp even at six o’clock in the morning.
“We’ll split into three teams once we reach our destination,” Bryce barked. “All three teams will be on the ground; Teams A and B will enter the site, and Team C will be posted outside the church. Team C—Sarah, Grayson, that’s you. If anything comes in or out of that church, it’s your problem.”
I glanced around, finding most eyes glued tensely to the chopper’s floor. Grayson’s knee was bouncing.
“Team B. Zach, Colin, Roxy, Louise, Greta. You will split into groups, enter the church from the west windows and main door, and cover the first floor.” Bryce pulled on his gloves as he walked around the circle. “You will not leave that floor unless I tell you to. Only necessary use of comms inside the site. I shouldn’t hear more than a mouse fart in my earpiece. I’ll be on the floor with you, so any chitter-chatter will answer to me—and I promise you’d prefer the redbill.”
We rarely had the captain on the ground with us. Sweat dampened my palms, and I hadn’t even heard my station’s details yet.
“Team A.” Bryce paused to clear his throat, his icy eyes glancing down momentarily. “Gina, Lyra. You two will enter through the east wall’s window. The site has multiple levels, and you will be the first to head up. Silence is golden, lassies.”
I nodded, holding Bryce’s gaze. Gina sat to my left, and I watched her hands clench.
“The main floor is somewhere around thirty thousand square feet,” our captain continued. “We haven’t placed the target yet, so step lightly. Redbills’ sense of hearing isn’t nearly as sharp as their eyesight, which is why I’m permitting an airdrop. But don’t take anything for granted once we’re in a closed space.”
The head pilot’s voice came through our earpieces. “Three minutes to site.”
“Three minutes and fifteen seconds to drop,” Bryce replied into his comm.
Zach cracked his knuckles from across the circle.
“Once we locate our target, you know what to do.” Bryce tightened his artillery belt. “Safeties off when your little feet hit the ground. Understood?”
“Yes, Captain,” the entire crew resounded loudly.
Bryce moved to the cockpit. Our comms were silent. He’d turned them off, but I could see his lips moving rapidly as he gesticulated to the pilots.
For the short time until the drop, our eyes remained locked on the tips of our boots. No one said a word. The droning of the chopper intensified, and my stomach lurched as the craft descended. I closed my eyes. Breathe. At least my thigh was feeling much better than last night. The rest had done it a lot of good.
I glanced up briefly in the silence and caught Zach looking at me. His mouth formed a small smile. He winked.
“Line up, children,” Bryce snapped, returning from the cockpit. “Look alive, why don’t ya?”
The group bolted from their seats, the sound of our steps blending with the chopper’s hum. Gina and I locked eyes, then shoulders. We made our way to the open door. The tops of trees became clearer in the now-pale-violet morning light.
The church came into view from the doorway, just to the north. Its spire had shattered; what remained was a spike of pale gray wood pointing at the sky. The shingles were scattered about the roof, some stacked together like forgotten piles of papers. The air battered my cheeks. The thrumming of the blades above battered my eardrums.
“Thirty seconds to drop!” Bryce’s voice bit through my earpiece.
I looked over my shoulder. The teams were paired and lined up behind us, facing the exits. I braced my weapon tightly against my side.
“Ten seconds!” the captain shouted behind me.
The main doors of the church were visible below, and the chopper now hovered in place just behind the trees encircling the building. Someone dropped the two lines on each side of the doorway, and they slithered down toward the ground.
Gina reached over and gripped my arm for a split second.
“Drop, teams!”
Sucking in a breath, I crouched alongside Gina, gripping my line, and the chopper floor disappeared from beneath my feet. Weightlessness overtook me. The speed blurred my vision, and the friction of the line whizzing through my gloves warmed their damp fabric.
Treetops surged closer, then branches, trunks—ground—
Gina and I hit the soil in tandem. We dropped our lines and stepped away silently, unlocking the safeties on our guns and moving into position. My peripheral vision showed the other teams landing behind us and filing toward the church. The building’s walls may have been painted once, but all that remained were thin streaks of gray on the rotting wooden boards. It was taller than I’d expected, its roof reaching far above us amongst the treetops.
Gina led the way. The back window, our entrance, was at shoulder level. Pinecones crunched under my boots, so I lightened my steps.
We reached the window. Gina eyed the windowsill—no glass left, totally busted out—and swiftly lifted herself up and through the flaking wooden frame. I waited three beats and followed suit, heaving myself inside.
I landed quietly on the old floorboards. In front of me, Gina scanned the room, gun butt against her chest. The edges of the main sanctuary were entirely dark. The altar’s giant cross loomed above us from the back wall. The window we’d entered was one of two lighting the room—crisscrossed boards covered the others, except for the one Zach and Roxy were crawling through on the west wall. Dust floated through the few beams of light we had.
Must and earthy mildew filled my nose. The now-distant and barely audible murmur of the chopper was the only thing I could hear besides my clipped breathing. Most of the pews were in scattered pieces, and old hymnals were strewn between them.
I followed Gina as she crept toward the altar. We knelt on either side of it, squinting through the haze. One, two, three, four… I counted my teammates as they shifted through the darkness, covering the perimeter of the sanctuary. Everyone was accounted for. Bryce’s behemoth frame stood beside one of the massive,
cracked pillars. I couldn’t see his mouth moving, but I heard the gravel of his whisper in my comm: “Team B, say the word when all four corners are covered. Team A, stationary.”
Zach and Roxy scouted the west wall, and I could see Colin and Greta securing the darkness framing the main door. I glanced above, mentally repeating my next orders. You will be the first to head up.
The vaulted ceiling was so tall I couldn’t tell where the walls ended and it began.
“Team A, have you located the stairs?” Captain growled.
“Stairs near corner of altar and west wall, confirmed,” Gina whispered. My eyes darted to the narrow staircase.
“Ground floor secure,” Zach said softly in my ear.
“Right. Team A, visually secure the stairs. Then head up. If I’ve got your bearings right, there should be a balcony beyond that,” Bryce instructed.
There wasn’t much visibility up the staircase, but the next landing was clearly far up. Some of the slatted steps were cracked… some not there at all. Gina’s gaze caught mine, and she nodded to reassure me.
“Stairs clear. Light steps, Lyra,” Gina breathed over the comm, holding my eyes with hers.
“Team A, move up,” our captain grunted.
Gina instantly responded, stepping delicately as she ascended. I left several steps between us as we climbed. My eyes bounced between her feet and the steps emerging from the dark above us.
A step groaned under Gina’s left foot, and we instantly froze. She looked back at me, a warning to be careful. I nodded. Despite my care, the same step creaked under my weight, but it held.
Cobwebs latticed between the railing and the steps. I glanced at them for just a second, and I heard a step whine and then snap—crack—Gina’s right foot was falling, and she was going down with it.
I snatched the back of her belt and threw my weight back as hers pulled me forward, my muscles straining. The broken wooden step clattered on the floor below, echoing off the east wall.
“Freeze!” Bryce hissed in my ear.
Gina’s sharpened breaths were the only sounds that followed. I held on tightly to her belt; she gripped the railing, taking most of her weight off me. Her eyes closed in relief, but only briefly. She flashed a thanks to me with a glance. All remained still.
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