Midnight Dawn

by Jocelyn Adams

  “It might be, but my gut’s telling me this is our way out. Do you trust me?”

  He seemed to stare into my soul before saying, “Always.”

  I swallowed to clear the sudden tightness in my throat and motioned toward the window and Agent Phillips. “After you. I’ll be right behind you, and when I say that, I actually mean it.”

  One corner of his lips quirked up in a grin before it flattened again. He sidestepped to the window, waiting until Agent Phillips moved out of the way, and hopped down with his arms in the air. I followed him, not as afraid of the circle of gun-toting officers as I might have been five minutes ago.

  “We need to check you for weapons, and then we’ll be taking you back to Albany,” Agent Phillips said in that sexy British accent and then read us our Miranda rights. “If both of you would be so kind as to assume the position against the wall there, my partner and I will pat you down.” What was in Albany? I guessed an FBI office.

  Said partner turned out to be Kyle dressed in a pair of suit pants that were at least a couple of inches too short on his long legs, exposing his white sneakers, and a white dress shirt that could have fit another of his skinny frame in it. Had he raided someone’s backyard clothesline for that stuff? He appeared uncertain, giving a subtle shrug when our eyes met.

  Phillips must have found him and Iris after they’d made it to the ground, but where was she? A quick search of the crowd didn’t turn up any purple hair. Where had Phillips gotten the badge he must have shown to prove he was a Fed? Or was he really working for the FBI, hiding in plain sight in the true reality? Marcus had destroyed the former Machine sixty-five years ago, and some of the current guardians had woken up one day in the facility, wondering how they’d gotten there. Could Phillips be a survivor from that massacre?

  Not that it mattered. If we weren’t surrounded by nervous cops, I might have hugged the guy for saving our bacon.

  Chapter Fifteen

  After getting a pat-down and a pair of cuffs, our shit parade headed out of the museum. Kyle had Asher, and Agent Phillips had me. Thank goodness Phillips didn’t seem to notice Asher’s death glare. Why was Asher so pissed? He wanted out of the museum so I could find more pages and put Baku on ice, and we were going. Okay, so we were in cuffs among a herd of armed officers in front of and behind us, but I hoped Thor’s younger, cuter brother had a plan.

  Along the corridor, down several flights of stairs, and into the lobby we went. Nobody said a word other than a few mumbles between the cops as they cleared each new space before we prisoners were allowed to move forward.

  We emerged onto the steps outside to a small army of police, and beyond them, news vans. Cop-car beacons painted the cityscape in splashes of red and blue, and camera flashes added their own sparkle. Holy mother of crap. I hoped my dad didn’t watch TV, and if he did, that my presence on the screen wouldn’t spark any memory echoes for him.

  If we managed to survive, we’d have to go out in disguise for the rest of our lives after our faces were plastered all over the newspapers under the headline of Two People Murder Psych-Ward Patients While Robbing National Treasure.

  Bile rose at the thought of that young guy and the woman lying dead inside. His family would never know how afraid he’d been, or who had killed him. Another ocean of guilt washed over me. Much more, and I wasn’t sure how I’d hold it all in. But I had to, or there’d be a few billion more deaths on my conscience.

  The cops and reporters parted as Phillips and Kyle hurried us through them to a dark sedan parked across the street amid blinding camera flashes.

  Once they’d shut us into the back, divided from the front by a Plexiglas barrier, Thor got behind the wheel, and Kyle plopped down in the passenger side. Marked cruisers led the way as we pulled out into the crowded street, and a few more took up the rear. We were still a long way from out of danger, but some of the tension left my shoulders.

  “Where’s Iris?” I asked, raising my voice so they could hear me through the divider.

  “She’s sleeping in the trunk with the artifacts,” Kyle said, turning in his seat. “It was the safest place for her, since she was out cold. This British guy met us at the bottom of the scaffolding. I wasn’t sure what to do, but I wasn’t about to leave you guys in there, and he’s obviously a sentinel, so…” He shrugged as though his shoulders weighed a million pounds.

  “You did good,” I said. “Damn, you’re pale, Kyle. Hang on a little longer, okay?”

  Asher’s focus laser-beamed to the stranger as he shifted his butt closer to me. “Now, start talking.”

  I met Phillips’s bright gaze in the mirror, his smile present in it. “Aren’t you a sight for these sore eyes?” he asked.

  Huh?

  Asher’s beast barked from his lips. “Just who the hell are you, and where were you when we were facing down a dozen wraith-infected back there?”

  Phillips seemed kind of familiar somewhere in the echoes of my mind, but maybe my Machine senses recognized another of my kind.

  “Caine Phillips, an exile from Izan’s last pathetic attempt at assembling the Mortal Machine, before your time. Imagine my surprise when the Shift, closed to me since someone betrayed and slaughtered most of us sixty-five years ago, beckoned today out of the blue, and I had a sudden urge to get dressed up, spend my entire savings on a fake FBI badge, and take a trip to New York.” Looking over his shoulder at Asher, he said, “And not all of us can take on that many wraiths at once and survive. Sorry about that, mate, but we all have our parts to play, apparently, and mine was to let the Architect do her thing and then get you out of there.”

  “Wait, wait, wait,” I said, doubting my certainty that Izan had sent him. “Just who are you working for?”

  “The invisible asshole in the sky, who else?”

  He meant Izan, thank hell. “What did you mean by exile?” I asked. “Why would the Shift be closed to you?”

  “Izan has no trouble cutting his losses. He didn’t know which of us was the traitor after the massacre, so he abandoned me in the true reality, the bastard. To hell with him. You, on the other hand, are a breath of fresh air and the first hope I’ve had of escaping this endless life in the better part of a millennium. So here I am, your willing servant. If you’ll have me, of course.”

  At Asher’s low growl, I bumped him with my elbow. “I’m not into servants, thanks, but we could use all the hands we can get. Out of curiosity, why are you so sure I can even tie my own shoes, let alone buy us another tomorrow?”

  His reflection stared back at me, intensely dark in ways I didn’t understand. “I don’t need to know you. My gut is never wrong about anything, and it’s quite certain you are a force to be reckoned with in a surprisingly beautiful package. I’m guessing something major is about to go down, yeah? Why else would I have been pulled out of retirement?” Bitterness dripped from the last, and he strangled the steering wheel.

  He thought I was beautiful? I started to smile, but Asher’s cursing flattened it again. “Major,” I said. “Yeah, that’s the understatement of all time.” There were so many things I wanted to know, like how many survivors there might have been, and if his grief that seemed to blacken the air was only because of Izan’s betrayal, but the car swerved, stealing my attention.

  “More police are gathering on the side streets, so it’s time we blaze our own trail.” Caine made an abrupt turn and sped us onto an on-ramp, ditching the two cops in front of us. The one behind us, though, followed, no doubt calling for massive amounts of backup to apprehend two rogue FBI agents and their murderous, thieving cohorts.

  Well, that was an unexpected turn of events. So now we were fugitives at large on top of murderous art thieves.

  I reached out to touch the Shift, but nada. “If we can’t get out of this reality right stinking shortly, we are seriously done for,” I said. “Let’s have our history lesson later and figure out what the hell we’re going to do before we all end up behind bars or dead, okay?”

  “Agr
eed,” the other three said in unison.

  We flew along the freeway at a scary speed, the car floating as if not much of the rubber actually touched the road. If we hit anything, since my hands were still bound behind my back and I wasn’t a wearing seat belt, I’d end up smashing face-first into the security panel.

  “We just have to keep ahead of the authorities until this phenomenon passes,” Caine said, “and then we’ll escape into the Shift.”

  “Good luck with that,” Asher snapped out. “It’s still locked up tight.”

  “Bloody hell.” Caine moved his hands up to ten and two on the wheel. “Hold on to your arses, girls and boys, we’re in for some turbulence.”

  I leaned forward, straining to see through the clouded panel, and didn’t have to look too hard out the windshield to locate what he’d seen. In the distance, a line of headlights and police beacons cut a swath across the freeway, and they weren’t moving. How had they set up a roadblock so fast? Had Baku tipped them off? I struggled in my cuffs, but they were tight, and I only succeeded in scraping my skin.

  Asher cursed. “Goddammit, why can’t we catch a break tonight?”

  “Um…why aren’t you slowing down, Caine?” I pressed myself against the back of the seat, crushing my own hands.

  He grinned at me over his shoulder, and the car lurched forward, the engine growling harder into the early morning.

  “Stop the damned car!” Asher raised his knees and thrust his heels against the divider screen with enough force to tip a bus on its ass, but it didn’t give at all.

  Hands braced on the dash, Kyle shouted obscenities that soon turned into the Lord’s Prayer.

  We bore down on the lights, closer and closer. Jesus, Caine was going to ram them, only the cruisers were parked head-on to us, so it wasn’t like we were going to get through. “What is he doing?” I asked no one in particular.

  “Spike strip!” Kyle yelled. The resulting swerve around the wicked-looking piece of metal with nails waiting to blow our tires threw me hard into Asher and shot my shoulder up with pain.

  Cleared of the danger, Caine resumed course toward the barricade. He began counting down. “Five”—we were close enough to see the officers drawing weapons and settling behind car doors—“Four”—pops sounded outside from the cops who were positioned on the shoulder, firing at us, and the ones in our direct line scrambled out of the way—“Three”—the front right tire exploded, throwing me forward, and I might have smashed my face in if Asher hadn’t thrown his body across me—“Two”—I buried my face against his throat and told him I was sorry over and over again—“One.”

  “I’m here. I’ve got you.” Asher’s muscles hardened at the same time mine did, both of us tensed for an impact that never came. Cold rolled over us, and my ears needed to pop as the great beating heart of the Shift pounded within my chest.

  Neither of us moved. If we’d died, that was A-okay if we were together, so I enjoyed his protective weight and his breaths warming my left shoulder. His head settled harder into me, relief probably chasing the tension from his body like it was from mine. I tilted my chin down, resting my cheek against his hair, wishing I could Houdini out of my cuffs so I could hold him against me. Instead, I nuzzled his ear, delighting in the tiny sounds he made.

  “Thank you,” I whispered. He protected me so often, and I’d never told him how much it meant to me.

  “Everyone all right back there?” Caine asked, his voice alive with humor.

  “Cutting it a little close, dontcha think?” Kyle said, his tone high and tight.

  Asher wiggled back onto the seat sideways because of the cuffs still holding his arms behind his back, his face flushed and his lids crimped shut. While he sat there, taking short breaths, I peered out the window at a forested country road, silently fuming that Thor had cut short my tender moment with Asher. It could very well have been our last together.

  Even given the circumstances, I tucked that memory into my heart where nobody else could see it, especially not him. It might bleed me later, but for now, I’d hold on to every speck of time I could eke out with him before duty and necessity tore us apart again.

  “Did you take all of us, and a car, through the Shift?” I asked Caine. I wasn’t sure why it surprised me. We took other stuff through the Shift, so why not a car? It hadn’t even occurred to me to try.

  “Let’s get you out of those irons, and we’ll chat.” Caine threw open the door and got out.

  We’d come so close to dying, I probably needed a change of boy shorts, and he wanted to chat? I’d chat him right upside the head with a nice roundhouse for scaring the ever-loving hell out of us.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Instead of crawling out his side, where Kyle held his door open, Asher crawled out after me. He shoved past to position himself between Caine and me.

  “You so much as breathe in her direction, I will kill you,” Asher snarled.

  “Hey,” I said. “Enough with the threats. Now, let him unlock us, so we can get the hell out of here before that dragon asshole wrangles up another batch of infected to send after us, since it seems he can track my Architect energy faster than most wraiths, even when I have it boxed up.”

  Kyle opened the trunk and shook Iris awake, helping her out to sit on the bumper of the sedan. Asher didn’t move from his protective stance, unlocking his teeth only long enough to lean toward Caine and say, “You will uncuff me, and I’ll uncuff Addison.”

  “So protective.” Caine leaned around my sensei. “Is he your conduit?”

  “No,” Asher barked before I could even fire up a brain cell. He didn’t have to sound so damn sure about it, even if it was true.

  “Ah, so he’s just an arrogant prat, then.” Caine’s gaze ping-ponged between the two of us before lingering on me, a dimple sinking into his left cheek. “My purpose here is becoming clearer.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Asher shifted toward him. “If you think she’ll choose a complete stranger for her match, then I’ll drive another thought through your skull with my fist.”

  What? Had Izan sent me my conduit? My heart clenched. He was cute enough, but… God, give your head a shake! “Enough, guys.” I glared at Asher. “Can the drama. People died because I don’t know what I’m doing.” I choked back the emotion trying to strangle me. Switching my focus to Caine, I added, “Just stop talking until we get back to the facility, or I swear I’ll knock the bunch of you out myself.”

  Kyle grinned as he collected the artifacts from the trunk, handing the tapestry to Iris and keeping the pot and sarcophagus himself. “I’d listen to her,” he said. “I’ve seen her fight, and you don’t want to be on the wrong side of her.”

  “We are not taking this guy back to the facility,” Asher said as Caine uncuffed him. Once free, Asher rubbed his wrists and held his hand out for the key.

  “You don’t get to make that decision.” I turned so one of them could unhook me. The scent of sweet whiskey and spicy cologne filled my nose, so Asher had won the staring contest, apparently. I didn’t waste a second before pulling him aside and moving to block his attempts to melt the Thor look-alike with his death wishes.

  “You know,” Asher said, leaning closer so his inner crocodile could get within biting distance, no doubt, “you make it really hard to keep you alive.”

  I squinted at him, at what I’d have called possessiveness in his body language if he’d been anyone else. “We need answers, and he might have them,” I said.

  “I don’t like this.”

  “Then don’t like it; just help me instead of making this harder,” I said, stepping back when Caine crowded me. “Come on, we’ve stayed here too long.”

  “Your command is my wish,” he said with a wink. Oh, hell. This guy was going to be serious trouble. One corny fall of an eyelid, and my cheeks were going up in flames.

  I held up my finger to Asher’s parted lips. “Just shut it, both of you.”

  Moving closer to Kyle and Iris, wh
o stood beside the trunk with the artifacts, I held my hand out to the two most gorgeous men I’d ever met. Gaze locked on my face, Caine slid his fingers against mine in a way that was both sweet and suggestive. If it had been Asher who’d done that, I might have melted into a gooey puddle on the gravel, but I didn’t know Caine.

  Asher hesitated for only a second before lifting his shadow-beard-covered chin and gripping my fingers with force. Not enough to hurt, but enough it startled me after all of the sleeping-baby touches I’d been getting from him lately. I didn’t catch the gasp before it left my lips, and an endless procession of hot thrills went swirling through me. And it was just a warm hand, not a jazzed-up-with-power sentinel hand. Dammit.

  Leaving the car behind on the road, I called the Shift and thought of the facility with its gray maze of hallways and locked doors. Not home, but a prison ward for the criminally strange. Layers of reality descended upon us like several rolls of film playing at once on the same screen. Hot damn, it was really open again. Funny how dependent I’d become on our nifty mode of transportation in such a short time.

  I wasn’t sure how to handle the cute stranger/Asher situation, but I needed to figure it out, stat.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Caine went to the common room sofa and dropped into it as if his strings had been cut, gripping a photo of Marcus. Kyle had taken Iris to the infirmary so she could recover from her energy loss, and Asher and I had broken the news about the traitor’s identity to our new sentinel.

  Settling on the arm of the sofa by Caine, I asked, “You knew Marcus?” knowing it was a stupid question.

  Moments of stiff silence passed before he raised his chin and crumpled the picture in his hand. “I knew him as Marc-Antony, a powerful guardian who was one of the first sentinels, like me. He was…I thought he was my friend, my brother, and you’re saying it was him who locked the Shift around us and fed us to the wraiths? He made us…the survivors had to stare our families in the face and destroy them because they’d been possessed. That bloody bastard!”