But then, as she approached the plaza, she noticed a white car following slowly behind her. Her first instinct was to take a couple of unexpected turns, but the car followed her closely—and the more she looked at it, the more familiar it seemed. It was old, like a muscle car, and she could tell it was a convertible even though the top was up. She snuck glances over her shoulder until she finally got a good look at the person driving it.
The blood in her veins ran cold. She recognized the guy behind the wheel—the same guy that had been waiting for Edie outside of Indriði’s house. Edie hadn’t given her very much context after the shouting match she’d had with him, but from what Sissel could gather, he wasn’t trustworthy.
She started walking faster. She knew this area of the city like the back of her hand. There was a one-way street coming up that he wouldn’t be able to follow her down.
She picked up the pace until, finally, she saw the blessed ONE WAY sign. Turning down it, she watched over her shoulder as the convertible hesitated before roaring around the corner and speeding away from her. It had been a close one, but he’d probably circle the block and come back. She kept up the brisk pace, crossing the street and starting an alternate route to the plaza.
After a few minutes with no sign of the white car, she began to wonder if she had actually seen that guy or if she’d psyched herself into thinking she had. He didn’t seem to be following her anymore. She slowed her pace and relaxed again.
The plaza was in sight. Sissel was about the cross the street when she felt a vehicle rumble up beside her. “Hey, don’t move.”
She recognized the voice, and didn’t even look behind her before taking off across the cross walk, away from the car. She could hear the roar of the engine as it sped to catch up with her, and she sorted through streets in her mind, trying to think of the closest place she could lose the stalker.
Like it had heard her prayers, an alley popped up ahead of her, and she turned down it, keeping close to the wall. If she was lucky, he’d lost sight of her for that crucial moment and hadn’t even noticed her turning.
The shit thing was, when you were dealing with other supernaturals, luck wasn’t exactly guaranteed.
The sound of screeching tires made her jump, and when she glanced over her shoulder, she saw that the convertible had cut through a lane of traffic going in the opposite direction to follow her down the alley. Its side mirrors almost scraped the tight walls, but it fit, and it was trundling after her at a careful pace.
She turned and started to sprint again. At its current speed, she could outrun it—and if her memory served, this particular alley turned a corner. He’d never be able to follow her that far.
Unfortunately, it turned out she had confused this shortcut with one a block away. It did turn a corner, but it was a dead end. Nothing but a couple fire escapes, some discarded cardboard, and trash bins greeted her.
Sissel’s heart skipped a beat, then thumped harder in her chest. Could she even turn back? She had to, but he’d be blocking the whole alley.
Breathing fast, she whipped around, her face going cold when she saw that he had gotten out of his car and followed her around the corner. He stopped, huge and scowling, looking her over. What did he even want with her? Panic began to set in. She couldn’t let him touch her, let alone bring her anywhere. When girls who looked like her were taken somewhere, they didn’t come back.
Suddenly, she wished she was at home, curled up in bed. She’d tell Antoniu to fuck off and run right back to the apartment. She’d apologize to her dad. She’d do all her chores and homework on time.
The stranger huffed wordlessly and started toward her.
Sissel looked him in the eye and held out a hand. “Stop!”
As she said it, a silvery light flashed in the middle of her palm … but it didn’t seem to make a difference. The magic hit his brow and pinged off like it was nothing. He continued to stalk toward her, unabated.
No! What? It had to work. It always worked! “Stop now! Don’t come any closer!” she tried again—and again, the magic died before it could reach his mind.
When he was finally close enough to touch her, she tried to duck under his arm and run, but he blocked her, movements surprisingly quick despite his size. “Hey, hey! Hey. Kid.”
She tried the other side, and he blocked yet again with a sigh.
“I’m real sorry about this, but you gotta come with me.”
Sissel screamed and made a last-ditch move to shoulder him out of the way. He caught her by the hood of her sweatshirt and hauled her toward the car.
“That’s all I know.” The girl threw up her hands and let them fall in her lap, looking around at those still assembled in Tilda’s dining room.
The girl—Sissel—had been pretty pissed to find out her mind-control didn’t work on revenants. Fortunately, though, she’d started talking when they had calmed her and explained the situation.
“Is Edie gonna be okay?”
Cal sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, not bothering to answer. While the girl didn’t have many specifics, what she’d told them had him wondering how Edie could be so goddamn dumb. Not only had she risked her life to bring Indriði a keeper paragon, but she had let the Norn use it on her. Tilda had recognized the name of the artifact and explained the implications. Edie was lucky she hadn’t been killed, but who knew how long that would last?
“All right,” the revenant breathed, dragging his hand down to cover his mouth. He drummed his fingers against his cheek in thought. “All right, all right, all right. I gotta get in there before she decides to use that thing.” He looked at Sissel. “Tell me everything you know about Indriði’s security system.”
She blinked. “Uh, I know she has some security guards, maybe cameras…. Before I went up with Edie, I’d only ever been on the first floor.”
“There’s gotta be something else.” He laid his hands on the dining room table and leaned forward. “What kind of wards does she have?”
Sissel’s eyes lit up, and she sat straighter. “Yeah, she mentioned them to me one time. She said Roggvi—that’s her steward, he’s a dwarf—set up a bunch of wards, so he probably has whatever can cancel them out.”
“What do you mean by that?” Mercy asked.
Tilda cut in. “It is a little like the system I have, though I’m sure she has more wards. There should be a, eh, particular object or objects that they use to cancel out the wards if need be. Like if they wanted to let a stranger in, or if they turn off certain wards during certain parts of the day, or this or this. A bit like a pass key.”
“I’ll have to take my chances with the front door and hope it isn’t warded,” Cal said as he began to pace.
Tilda looked up at him, apparently shocked. “You can’t go alone. It’s a suicide mission!”
“Well, what do you suggest I do?” He stopped, gesturing around the room. “The only other person here in fighting condition is Fisk, so I guess that makes two.”
She stood, facing him defiantly. “Me. I’m willing to go.”
“I can go, too!” Sissel said.
“No!” His face twisted. “I’m not taking you or the kid, it’s too dangerous. And Creepy doesn’t give a fuck,” he added, jerking his chin in Antoniu’s direction.
“I can help,” Tilda insisted. “I’m six hundred years older than you, Cal. How do you think I’ve survived this long?”
“No way. No way.”
She sat back down, crossing her legs and smoothing out her skirt. “I’m coming. You cannot keep me away, and I am not going to let you run off and get yourself killed. Antoniu, will you come, too?”
The wraith nodded.
Cal huffed, seething. He didn’t want her help, even though he probably needed it. Try as he might to disentangle himself from the vampire, Fate kept bringing them together again—and now, on top of that, he had to deal with her boy-toy. He shook his head.
Fisk had an arm linked with Mercy’s, and was stroking her. “You’ll b
e safe here, my pearl. I will come back for you.”
“So that’s me,” Tilda said, counting heads, “Antoniu, Cal, and Fisk. Hmm … that isn’t enough.”
“We need more,” the vættr agreed sheepishly.
Sissel groaned and said again, “I’ll go!” but nobody replied.
Cal threw up his hands and started to pace again. There wasn’t a single trustworthy person in this town who wasn’t already in this room, no one who would be willing to go up against a Norn for Edie, Satara, and Astrid. Hell, the three women were literally half of the Reach. He had no time to go out and make new “friends” to recruit, and even if he did, what would he even say? Hey, I’m having a kidnapping problem. Feel like risking your life for free?
Fuck. It was a miracle Edie was even still alive at this point. It was a miracle they were all alive at this point, after Zaedicus’s Prom of Doom. If it hadn’t been for—
The revenant stopped pacing, going still. There was one person—one person who maybe couldn’t be trusted, but could at least be counted on to do the right thing.
Can’t believe I’m doing this. That kid better be grateful.
“I’ll be back soon,” Cal mumbled, and headed for the front door.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Marius took a deep breath, looking into the pit of the helmet he held in his hand. He had to put it on for his plan to work—Ynga would know something was awry the second she saw his face. But he hesitated. Lying to sneak into a Gloaming party was one thing, but if he went through with this, he’d be tricking another Auroran.
All his young life, he’d been taught that honor was always achieved through honesty. The older he got, the more he realized what a simplistic view of the world that was. Sometimes subterfuge was necessary, especially when you did it to serve the ones you loved.
Still, after being caught going through Tiralda’s things, how much more could he get away with before he became a traitor himself?
Deep breath. It would be all right.
It was to protect his father.
He pulled the helmet over his head, securing it snugly.
As he slipped out of the armory and down the hall, he felt a bit bulky in the stolen armor. His usual gear had been painstakingly tweaked and re-tweaked to fit him perfectly. It made more effective armor—better for battle, certainly—but he couldn’t wear it. It was imperative that no one realize they were patrolling next to Vivid Marius.
In the past month, Ynga had been assigned to lead city patrols often. Usually, that privilege was saved for vivids or older, more experienced warriors, but the Radiant had apparently taken a liking to her. Besides, now that the Gloaming were constantly causing trouble somewhere in the city, the Aurora had been forced to ramp up the frequency and intensity of patrols. Even experienced warriors had to sleep.
Ynga was still refusing to speak to Marius, and their miscommunication during her proving hadn’t done their relationship any favors. When he searched her dormitory, it had turned up nothing. She had barely any personal items. It seemed she only used the room to sleep.
If she was the traitor, the only way he was going to draw any information from her was if she believed he wasn’t himself. As a nameless adherent, he could drift behind her, listening closely to her conversations and observing her behavior.
Marius emerged into the courtyard and quickly spotted Ynga near the west gate, leading a group of warriors in warm-ups. The patrols usually included nine adherents, lined up in three rows of three. Thankfully, he had gotten here early, and there were a handful of spots still open for him to slip into.
“Forward.” Ynga was demonstrating a lunge before them. “I better not see your knee pass your toe.”
Marius hurried over and fell in with the small group, beginning to warm up in time, careful to keep his form decent but not excellent. He was so close to pulling this off; standing out in any way would ruin it.
Eventually, other adherents trickled in, until there were only two empty spots.
“Stance wide, lunge to the side. Lower, all the way! I want you to feel it in your groin.”
After a minute, three warriors came jogging up to the group. Two fell into place right beside Marius, while the other lingered. He glanced at the remaining adherent in time to see his expression twist in confusion.
Ynga stood and addressed him. “What are you just standing there for?”
“I had patrol on my schedule, but….” The adherent gestured to the full three-by-three group in front of him.
Ynga seemed unconcerned, hands on her wide hips. “You must have been mistaken.”
“But—”
She raised a hand, stopping him. “Take that up with the patrol director. Go on, now.”
Marius focused on the ground in front of him. Thank the gods she hadn’t bothered to take attendance. He couldn’t draw attention to himself. This was necessary. It was doubtful the adherent had really wanted to go on patrol, anyway. Marius was practically doing him a favor.
Ynga joined the warm-ups again, wrapping them up quickly. She lined the adherents up for a cursory armor inspection, then ordered them into rank again. After leading them in a short prayer for Tyr’s blessing, she signaled for the west gates to be open, and they marched onto the brick sidewalk.
Marius couldn’t help but shiver as the warm light of a cloaking spell enveloped them. They would keep out of sight for a while, until they reached the neighborhood to which they were assigned. Hiding their world from the unattuned had always been a tenuous arrangement, and with the Gloaming’s brash attacks and open use of magic, it was becoming impossible. They still tried to do what they could to mitigate the damage. Most humans who happened to look in their direction would find themselves squinting at a strange glare, then looking away and quickly forgetting they had seen anything.
They marched to East End, and upon arrival, Ynga dropped their cloaking bubble with a whispered word.
As they stalked the streets, the adherents watched carefully, heads on swivels in case any Gloaming decided to show their faces. Although the patrol managed to spook a few suspicious groups out of the neighborhood at the sight of them, there was no conflict to be had. After a while, most of them relaxed and broke rank, observing their surroundings more casually as they chatted with one another.
Marius took a risk and cut to the front of the pack so he would be right behind Ynga.
Another adherent was standing beside her now, instead of behind, and they were speaking in Icelandic. Marius was better at Old Norse, but his knowledge of the modern language was passable. He stayed close, quiet as they walked.
The other adherent was asking about the Radiant. “You must have really impressed him. When are they doing Tyr’s Rite, do you know?”
“Soon,” Ynga replied, inhaling deeply. “We’ll see how that goes.”
“Are you nervous?”
“More excited than nervous. The Radiant knows he needs more vivids like me, to pick up his son’s slack.”
The adherent grunted affirmatively. Marius’s neck went hot.
“He needs more vivids in general,” the adherent added. “The Gloaming are heading the Aurora off at every turn. I think he wants everyone to think we’re doing better than we are.”
Ynga shrugged a shoulder. “That’s what spiritual leaders do. They lie. Even the oh-so-wonderful Radiant.”
Marius’s ears perked at her tone.
The adherent glanced at her. “You don’t like Radiant Eirik?”
“Oh, I know he’s only trying to keep up morale,” she said with a sigh. “It’s not that I don’t like him, but how he’s letting his son do whatever he wants is infuriating. The boy is his weak spot.”
Marius swallowed.
“I bet he’ll listen to you,” the adherent said. “You’d make a fine commander.”
She didn’t reply.
After a long pause, he spoke again, his voice lower this time. “Any word of the Gloaming Lord?”
Ynga barked a laugh. “I will
meet him on the beach soon enough.”
Marius slowed, drawing away from the conversation. He felt almost numb. Had she just admitted to meeting Zaedicus somewhere? Was he insane, or had he mistranslated? No, he was certain that she had said she was meeting the Gloaming Lord on a beach.
It must have been a mistake. A mistranslation, or perhaps he’d heard her wrong. No Auroran in their right mind would ever admit to meeting a Gloaming Lord, especially not to an adherent.
Unless … unless she wasn’t the only traitor. Was it possible there was a conspiracy?
He replayed their words over and over in his mind as the patrol finished uneventfully, uncertainty shaking him. On their way back, not even the warmth of their cloaking spell could comfort him.
As the other warriors trudged back through the west gate, Marius lagged behind, caught up in his own thoughts. It was stiflingly hot inside the helmet. He took it off, focusing on the bricks below his feet. He could repeat word-for-word what she’d said in Icelandic. If he could find someone who spoke it better than him—
It was only when a car pulled alongside him that he glanced up.
Marius recognized the car immediately, and a scowl twisted his face. Nonetheless, he approached when the driver beckoned him closer.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded of Cal.
The zombie didn’t look particularly happy to be talking to him, either. He kept glancing to the side, at the temple. “I have a favor to ask.”
The vivid was barely able to hold back an incredulous laugh. “What in the Fosterer’s name could you possibly need my help with, again-walker?”
“Not me, really.” He was smoking a cigarette, and dropped it in the gutter when he spoke, exhaling. “It’s Edie.”
A white-hot spark of anxiety lit Marius’s heart. Somehow, he already knew what Cal had to say to him. “She’s in trouble,” he mumbled.
No Earthly Treason Page 23
