by W. J. May
“Wait a second,” Aria exclaimed, unaware that she was gripping her armrests hard enough to have dented the sides, “they’ve already stolen it? Then why are we only coming now?”
Devon fought back a smile at the indignation on his daughter’s face.
“We wanted them to steal it. It would be impossible to prove Morten’s complicity unless he was caught with the tracker in hand. The mission is to intercept the tracker at the time of the drop, whilst capturing every moment on tape. We’ll then turn over both the tracker and tape to Avvon.”
Aria nodded slowly, replaying each word in her head. It sounded simple enough, she just didn’t understand how the Privy Council had somehow gotten involved.
“So this company, Avvon...why didn’t they just call some regular government agency? Like the CIA or the FBI. Isn’t this more their jurisdiction? How do they even know about the Council?”
“It became our jurisdiction when it came to the Council’s attention that the spy might not be a civilian. It isn’t uncommon,” he explained, seeing his daughter’s shocked expression, “for people with supernatural gifts to use them for advancement in the outside world. Invisible bank heists, rigged sports events. Once every few years, we catch a fledgling psychic trying to rig the lottery.”
Aria stared in open-mouthed disbelief, feeling very stupid for never having considered it before. In her mind, people in the supernatural community only fought against each other. Ink was used against ink. The common world was rarely, if ever, involved. The battles were huge because the people fighting them were up to the task. The inevitable endgame was for magical control.
To imagine people using their power against people who had none? People who didn’t even know that such a thing could exist? There was something almost dishonorable about it.
“But they have no idea?” she asked incredulously. “Even the people who hired this spy don’t know that he has a tatù?”
“Probably not,” Devon answered. “The one thing all people with ink can agree on is the inherent danger of exposure. I’m sure he seems more capable than the rest, but they don’t understand the reason. They only see the results, not the ink behind it.”
“Have you ever done that?” she asked, suddenly shy. “Used your powers for personal gain?”
His eyes twinkled as he leaned back in the chair. “I don’t know anyone who hasn’t. Julian checks ahead for traffic so he knows the best route to get into the city. Your mother conjures everything from coffee to Chanel. But there are different degrees. Have I ever used my powers against someone who didn’t deserve it? Mugged someone because I needed money? Stolen a car just because I wanted the high? No, of course not.”
“And this guy is doing it for profit?”
Devon nodded swiftly, getting back on point. “I’m sure he’s being paid handsomely for his services. Now, we don’t know what his tatù is, which is why you’re going to be keeping your distance. We break into the meet-site ahead of time and set up surveillance. You’ll run the cameras, while I wait for the handshake then take the chip.”
Most days, she would have begged for the opposite. Let her recover the tracker while her father waited safely in the wings, manning the camera. But the idea of simply being present at such a moment was enough to leave her bouncing in her chair.
“I’ll do such a great job—I promise!” She grabbed his hand, unable to sit still. “I’ll be super quiet and I won’t miss a thing. We’ll get the whole thing on tape.”
Devon smiled affectionately, probably knowing that his wife would later watch the whole memory in his mind through a sea of maternal tears.
“I know you will. But Aria, before we land, there’s something you have to promise me. If you don’t do it, if you don’t mean it...you’re not getting off the plane.”
Her eyes widened as she froze in her chair. “Anything.”
The smile faded from his face as he stared at her with an expression she’d never seen before. Like he wasn’t speaking to her as a daughter, but as an adult.
“If I tell you to run—you run.”
She started nodding but he held up his hand, driving the point home.
“Even if you don’t understand the reason. Even if you think you can help, or that maybe you see something I don’t. You run. Absolutely no exceptions. Do you understand?”
“Yes, I—”
“Promise me.”
She shivered in spite of herself, staring up at him in the dark. “I promise.”
“Lady and gentleman, at this time we’ll ask that you return to your seats in preparation for landing.”
Aria’s eyes went up towards the speakers as Devon leaned back in his chair. At the same time, the nose of the plane dipped sharply as they began their descent into the city.
“Good. In that case, buckle up. We’ve got a busy night...”
LIKE THE REST OF HER friends, Aria had grown up travelling the world. If it wasn’t skiing trips with her grandparents in Nice, it was sailing across the Mediterranean with her uncles. A school dance became an excuse for a shopping spree in Milan. After binge-watching the Lord of the Rings movies, she and her cousins found themselves on a twenty-day trek across New Zealand.
Everywhere she went, the routine was the same. Land at the airport, get through customs, rent a car, then drive straight to the hotel to combat jetlag before the adventure could begin.
But this wasn’t a vacation. There was no hotel, no rental car, no people in security vests stamping her passport. As far as she knew, there was no record of her and her father entering the country at all. This was a top secret mission. And for the first time, that was staring to hit home.
“What if I mess something up?” she whispered, sliding into the back of the taxi while Devon gave directions to the driver. They took off a second later, screeching away from the curb. “What if the camera breaks, or I miss something important, and the whole thing is ruined?” She blinked, and sucked in a sharp breath. “What if I forget to hit the record button and I think I’m recording it all, but I’m not and then you get the chip or something happens, and you come back to look through the recording and there’s nothing there, and everything you risked your life for isn’t worth anything all because I forgot to look for the blinking red dot, and then—”
“That’s not going to happen,” Devon said calmly. “We’re going to scout out a place together and you’re going to stay there until the mission is complete. I’ll start the camera and make sure it’s focused on the right spot. And make sure it’s recording. All you need to do is sit quietly and hold it in place.”
There was something deceptively soothing about his voice. For a split second, she almost believed him. But she’d inherited her mother’s ability to panic. Along with a bit of dramatic flair...
“Did you check the batteries?”
He glanced down at her in surprise. “Excuse me?”
“The batteries on the camera,” she repeated with impossibly dilated eyes. “What if we get in there and it dies mid-operation? I’d have no way of telling you—”
“I checked the batteries. They’re going to be fine.”
She nodded manically, staring out the window as her foot bounced nervously on the floor. “Remember to take off the lens cap.”
The taxi driver shot a curious look in the mirror as Devon said a silent prayer for patience. “I’ll do that.”
“I’m just saying, last summer I was supposed to record Benji flipping off the roof above our garage. He did it perfectly, but I forgot to take the lens off the camera. The next time he tried he ended up breaking his foot, so we never got another—”
“Sweetheart?”
She paused for breath as her father stared patiently back.
“I’ve done this once or twice before.”
Right.
THERE WAS VERY LITTLE traffic so late at night, but still the taxi ride seemed endless—winding up and down semi-deserted streets, stopping ages at every red light. It had gotten to the point where
Aria thought the man was simply racking up his fare, when Devon stopped him abruptly.
“Pull over here.”
The man did as he was told while Aria leaned forward eagerly in her seat, nose pressed up against the window. They were in the financial district, one of the few places in the city that had completely closed down. Only the occasional bar window flickered with faded neon lights, while the deserted skyscrapers loomed up above them like watchful sentries tracking their every move.
“Arie, let’s go.”
She glanced around with a start to see that her father had already paid the fare and was waiting for her on the sidewalk. The driver twisted in his seat, flashing her a toothy smile before muttering what sounded suspiciously like, “Don’t forget the lens cap.”
She blushed and stepped quickly outside, bracing herself instinctively against the cold before realizing that her clothes were deceptively impenetrable. She flexed the sleeves in surprise, twisting them back and forth. Then she saw her father watching, unable to hide his smile.
“Your mother did the exact same thing her first mission. It was some kind of museum heist, but ask her the most interesting part and she’d definitely say her sleeves.”
Aria held back a grin. “Yeah, but I bet Aunt Molly had you all in beanies, right?”
Devon laughed shortly before setting off down the street. “That’s the whole reason Molly joined the Privy Council. The beanies.”
They walked in a strange darting pattern for about fifteen blocks. There were a few minutes where Aria thought her father must be lost, but she quickly realized there was a method to the madness. Not only was he making sure they weren’t followed, but he was following the movements of everyone in the vicinity as well. Memorizing the license plates of parked cars, cataloguing every passing pedestrian in his mind. At the same time, he was familiarizing both himself and his daughter with the area. Every now and then he’d point to an alley or a flight of stairs. Escape routes.
Aria flitted behind him like a shadow, watching his every move. When he’d stop to stare at something, she’d stare as well—wondering what had caught his interest. When he glanced up at each passing street sign, she committed each one to memory. It wasn’t long before she could draw a map.
After about twenty minutes, they circled back to where they’d been before. By now it was no longer a random place, but was well situated in Aria’s mind. She stared up at the building with fresh confidence, knowing the details of everything around it.
“If I tell you to run,” Devon asked softly, “where are you going to go?”
She thought for a moment before saying with total confidence:
“The alehouse on Pearl.”
He nodded slowly, then looked down at her. “Say that doesn’t work. Give me five more options.”
It was only then that she realized an obvious truth. Every moment since they’d stepped out of the taxi had been entirely for her benefit. Her father didn’t need to roam around for half an hour, familiarizing himself with the city. For that matter, he didn’t need her to hold up a camera on his behalf. The Devon Wardell she knew could have walked into the skyscraper without a second thought and done the whole thing by himself. No escape routes. No late-night tour. But she’d learned more by following him around for thirty minutes than a semester’s worth of classes could ever teach.
“I’ve got five other places, Dad. I paid attention.”
He stared at her a moment then nodded swiftly, turning back to the tower. “In that case, it’s time to go. Are you ready?”
“Ready?” She laughed shortly. “You could say that.”
I’ve been ready for a long time...
Chapter 8
First stupid mistake: Aria walked straight up to the front door.
Devon caught her arm with the ghost of a smile, making a tutting sound between his teeth. “I like the confidence, but it’s not going to be that easy.”
She blushed a million shades of red, skirting away from the revolving door and following him round to the side of the building. It was there that the ‘boring spy work’ officially began.
“Do you see that ledge?” her father asked, speaking softly enough that only she could hear. It was about twenty feet up, steaming in the chilly air. “Think you can reach it?”
She glanced at him in shock, only to see he wasn’t kidding. “Reach it? Like...jump?”
Instead of answering, he bent his knees ever so slightly then sprang straight vertical off the ground. He caught the ledge lightly between three fingers, swinging himself to the top.
As many incredible stunts as she’d seen her father do over the years, as many fantastically impossible feats of agility or strength—seeing it in the moment was something quite different. Her jaw went slack as she stared up at him, suddenly feeling awkward and clumsy on the ground.
Snap out of it—you can do this! You have his ink, too!
With a look of sudden determination, she crouched to the pavement—preparing to spring skyward. It wasn’t until she was about to jump that she saw Devon pointing deliberately at the side of the building. She followed his gaze to see a roving camera, turning slowly her way.
Instead of panicking, she almost had to laugh.
Of COURSE he timed it out with the camera. Like the jump itself wasn’t enough.
Fortunately, while she might not have had formal PC training, her generation had seen fit to prepare itself for such things in other ways. Over a decade of video games kicked in and she found herself counting it out—preparing to leap. Her lips fluttered with the silent movement as she stared up at the ledge, keeping the roving camera in her periphery. At the last possible second, when it was about to capture her face, she launched herself twenty feet into the air.
At least, that was the plan. She may have overshot it a little.
Second stupid mistake.
Devon’s hand flashed out as she sailed past him, like a flailing baby bird dropping the wrong way from the nest. She stifled a gasp as he pulled her towards the building, setting her lightly on the ledge beside him. Her heart was pounding. It took a second to remember to breathe.
“I’m sorry,” she gasped, clinging to him instead of the building. “I didn’t—”
“Don’t be sorry, you were great.”
He shifted his weight, kneeling down to examine the metal grate they were standing on. It was about a foot wide, and wrapped around the entire length of the building. Steel bolts reinforced the paneling, but with a sharp tug of his fingers the sheet they were standing on came free.
“Wait a second, what are you doing?”
She clung to his arm in terror, hoping he noticed that both her feet were dangling in the air. He did notice. But it didn’t have the desired effect. Instead of replacing the flooring at once he carefully propped it up against the side of the building, peering into the darkness below.
“I’ll go first. Wait four seconds, then go after me.”
“Go? As in jump?” She stared like he was crazy, and suddenly their precarious perch two stories up didn’t seem so bad. “You can’t even see what’s at the bottom. How will you—”
“Trust me.” He pried her fingers off his jacket, balancing her gently on the edge. “Four seconds. Count it out.”
He was gone a second later, vanishing without a sound into the shadows.
One...
“This is crazy,” she muttered to herself. “I can’t go in there.”
Two...
“It’s bad enough I overshot the jump. Should probably just stay here.”
Three...
“I didn’t even hear him land. What if he’s still falling?”
Four.
“Time’s up.”
A rush of warm air blasted her hair back from her face as she peered into the chasm, squinting with all her might to catch of glimpse of anything that lay beyond. There was nothing but the harsh scent of industrialized heating—overcompensating for the chilly New York night.
Dad?
/> She called telepathically, then felt like an idiot the second she heard his voice.
“Does someone need a lesson in counting?”
Third stupid mistake.
She dropped into the darkness a second later, more out of shame than anything else. Her hair flew up around her as her arms shot out for balance. But before she had time to panic, her feet connected with something hard and she was sliding downwards...into a pair of waiting arms.
“See? That wasn’t so bad.”
A pair of plastic sticks cracked in the dark, flooding the room with a neon blue glow. Her eyes took a second to adjust before focusing on her father’s gentle smile.
How can he be so calm? Even now. How can he be so steady?
“You okay?” he asked when she didn’t say anything.
She nodded quickly, worried that at any moment he might reconsider and send her back outside. The sticks rose higher and she saw for the first time how small the room really was. If she had to guess, she’d say it wasn’t built for people at all. It was merely the ventilation system.
That probably wouldn’t have been a problem if they were just dealing with the air-conditioner. But it was the middle of winter. Only the heater was on.
Devon yanked her suddenly to the side as a blast of scalding air shot through the vents where she’d been standing, burning the back of his hand.
“Dad! Are you okay?”
“It’s Devon,” he answered suddenly, gently pushing her back so he could examine the damage in the blue light. “From now on, I’m Devon. Not Dad. Under no circumstances are you to reveal that we have anything more than a professional connection. Do you understand?”
The scary thing was, Aria did understand.
A few years ago, the child of an agent had been kidnapped by a splinter faction the Council was attempting to subdue. The ransom demand had come just a few hours later. The return of the child in exchange for a flash drive with the schematics to the London Stock Exchange.
The agent had defied all orders and made the exchange immediately—surrendering the drive without a second thought. His child had been returned a day later. The funeral was a day after that.
