Fate of Flames

by Sarah Raughley

  Rhys told us a little about the facility on the way there. Like all the ones situated outside urban areas, this one came equipped with a powerful enough APD to fortify the miles’ worth of land surrounding it—which is why I didn’t quite get the high guard towers on the other side of the gated entrance, but then I guess it never hurt to be vigilant. Two armed guards in red Sect combat uniforms occupied each tower—no. There was a third one in the rightmost tower: a young woman in regular clothes. A pair of binoculars hid her face.

  Shielding my eyes from the sun, I peered through the window for a better look as our van passed, but the towers were too high and too far from the road. Maybe it was better I couldn’t see their faces. I could tell they were staring at me too—a fact that made me deeply uncomfortable.

  The underground parking lot wasn’t too far. A team of agents was already waiting for us.

  “Agent Rhys,” said the man standing at the front. “It’s nice to meet you. I am Agent Ortega.”

  In his very agent-like black suit and tie, Ortega held himself as if he were six inches taller than he really was and not at all ashamed of his messy man-bun.

  “Good to meet you too.” Rhys shook Ortega’s hand with a serious, businesslike nod that didn’t at all fit his varsity jacket glee club look, but he still pulled it off. “And these two are—”

  “The Effigies.”

  Almost as if it were a nervous tic, I averted my eyes when Ortega turned to us.

  “Chae Rin Kim and Maia Finley, I presume?” After sizing us up, he nodded. “Good. Belle Rousseau arrived a few hours ago with Victoria Soyinka.” I still wasn’t used to hearing Lake’s real name. “Once all four of you are gathered, we can debrief you on our current situation.”

  “Sounds good,” Rhys said. “Take us to Communications.”

  Just as we reached the elevator, I patted my jeans pockets and then the sweatshirt around my waist. “Crap! I think I forgot my phone in the car.”

  “Of course you did.” Chae Rin rolled her eyes. “She’s battle ready, this one.”

  Heat flushed my face at the precise moment my stomach squeezed at the word “battle.” “Give me the keys? I’ll be quick!”

  The driver tossed them to me, and I ran back down the sloped pavement to the van. Damn it, Maia. Forgetting my phone on the eve of a giant operation? As if I needed the sucker punch to my self-esteem.

  Once I reached the van, I swung open the door, but before I could dive in, a glint of light caught my eye. It was coming from farther back in the garage, several rows behind me.

  A motorcycle.

  It was off to the side, shadowed by the low, ruddy brick wall behind it, and sandwiched between vans. It wouldn’t have interested me at all if it weren’t for the motorcyclist still on the bike, hunched over with his hands on the handlebars and the key in the ignition. He stayed like that, frozen, even after I started quietly approaching.

  “Hello?”

  At the sound of my voice, the motorcyclist’s whole body twitched like a child who’d just been found in the bathroom sneaking ice cream before dinner. I heard a nearly indecipherable “Crap.”

  A distinctly feminine voice.

  That was when I noticed just how slender the brown hands on the handles were—with little stars drawn on each brightly painted nail.

  “Are you okay?” I asked. The motorcyclist was shaking. Even though I couldn’t see the face behind the helmet, it was very possible that this person was having some kind of a panic attack.

  “Please,” came the voice: young, delicate. British. “Um . . . can you please move? If that’s okay?” Her words sounded extra timid while being carried by her breathy tone.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Hey, kid!” I could hear Chae Rin’s barking from there. “The hell are you doing?”

  “Give me a second,” I yelled back, squeezing the keys in my hand.

  “Um.” The motorcyclist tried again. “Move . . . out of the way . . . please?” Her long legs twitched on the pedal as if her skinny jeans were too tight and consequently messing with her nervous system.

  The moment I stepped closer to check on her, my feet lifted off the ground. It was a gentle gust, clean and swift, but with enough power to sweep me into the air and deposit me carefully atop the trunk of the Jeep behind me.

  It took me a disorienting second to realize what had just happened. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

  The girl gave an awkward shrug. “Sorry!”

  The motorcycle revved and she was off.

  I ran back to the van. Chae Rin was there, gaping at the motorcycle with my phone in her hand.

  “It’s her!” I shook her. “She’s getting away!”

  “Huh?”

  “Lake! Dude, that was Lake!”

  “Trying to ditch, eh?” Chae Rin narrowed her eyes. “You got the keys?”

  We didn’t wait for agent approval. After tossing Chae Rin the keys, I leapt into the passenger seat and braced myself as Chae Rin drove off.

  As I buckled my seat belt, I could see Rhys and the other agents through the rearview mirror, dumbfounded and frozen by the elevators.

  We chased Lake through the underground garage and up the ramp into the daylight. Since when did a dainty pop princess double as a seasoned biker?

  I rolled down the window and stuck my head into the open air, but at the speed we were going, there was no way we’d be able to communicate. Lake drove with the determination to flee the devil.

  We were getting close to the main entrance. The gate remained determinedly shut, but Lake wasn’t slowing down. She must have been crazy if she thought they’d open it for her.

  Unless she was planning to blow it open.

  My phone rang. Probably not the best time, but I answered it anyway. “Hello?”

  “Give the phone to Chae Rin,” said the cool voice on the other end.

  The phone nearly slipped from my hands. “I-it’s for you,” I said, handing it over.

  Chae Rin snatched it. “Huh? Where the hell are you?” She leaned forward so she could peer up at the guard towers through the windshield. “Well, shit.”

  I saw her too. Belle. She was the third “officer” at the rightmost tower, her foot planted on the ledge as she spoke into her cell phone. Because her binoculars now hung around her neck, they no longer masked her aloof gaze.

  “What? Yeah, I see her,” Chae Rin said into the phone. After a second or two, she rolled her eyes. “You really just love telling people what to do, don’t you? Whatever.”

  Chae Rin tossed the phone behind her. “Hold on to something, kid.”

  “What?”

  Without warning, she stomped on the brakes. The seat belt bit hard into my chest while the van skidded to a halt. Then Chae Rin hopped out.

  “What’s going on?” Unlike the van, my head hadn’t stopped spinning. With fumbling hands, I unfastened myself. “What about Lake?”

  Instead of answering, Chae Rin watched the motorcycle draw closer to the gate. Then, with a sharp movement, she raised her newly healed arm. The muscles tensed in the slender limb as Chae Rin balled her hand into a fist, and the moment she brought it down, a hole opened up beneath the motorcycle. I’d seen the trick before, but this was different. The sandy ground glooped and gelled together as it sank deeper and deeper, pulling Lake’s motorcycle with it.

  Sand, clay, and water. Two Effigies working together.

  Lake cried out; the mud was like a vortex, dragging her in.

  “Stop!” I cried, but Chae Rin put up a hand to calm me. She must have known what Lake would do next.

  Abandoning the bike, the girl jumped—no, it was too high and graceful to be called a jump. Gently swept up by the breeze at her command, she touched down lightly upon the solid ground, perfectly safe, but incredibly pissed.

  “Oi!” Lake threw off her helmet, strands of her short hair flying everywhere. “Have you gone absolutely mental?”

  Chae Rin clearly had a quip ready, but she wouldn’t h
ave time to use it. Long, twisted spikes of ice shuddered up off the ground’s surface, locking Lake into a jagged, cone-shaped cage too small to throw a fit in.

  Up on the tower, Belle threw off her binoculars.

  “Gotcha,” gloated Chae Rin. Lake gripped one of the frigid bars, slumping in defeat.

  • • •

  “Runaway pop star.” Once again Rhys shook his head. He’d been doing that a lot since we’d dragged Lake back to the facility. “I don’t even know where to start.”

  It was not the epic meeting I’d imagined. We four Effigies walked in silence as Rhys, Ortega, and the other agents led us through the twisting corridors of the facility. With Belle and Chae Rin at the front, I was left at the back of the party with the beautiful seventeen-year-old pop princess wannabe whose nervous gaze kept flitting to me. As the two of us eased into our discomfort, Rhys continued his tirade.

  “What I don’t quite understand is how a facility with a perfectly functioning surveillance system almost let one of our secret weapons drive straight out the front door.”

  Seemed like Rhys was trying to keep his tone somewhat neutral, but Ortega had clearly registered the serrated tip hiding in his criticism.

  “It’s something I’m just hearing about,” he answered grimly. “Right now we’ve got troops on standby, an administrative liaison dealing with the Argentinean government, not to mention we’re dealing with the temporary replacement for Director Aleandro.”

  “Oh, right, he was in charge here.”

  “Yes, he was in charge here; now he’s stuck in a bed, sick and delirious. It all happened too suddenly, and with all the preparations under way, it’s not hard to see how they might have overlooked one little factor.”

  “Little factor?” Chae Rin scoffed. “If we’re that ‘little,’ then why the hell did you drag our asses out here in the first place?”

  The agent responded with a slight bow of his head. “My apologies.”

  “So she got away because nobody was looking for her,” Rhys said.

  “I at least noticed.” Even the slight shift of Belle’s head made Lake jump. “Rather than distract the base, I looked for her myself. Anyway, it’s over. Let’s not belabor the point.”

  Belle turned to her, but Lake couldn’t meet her gaze. The recent escapee kept her head low, not at all befitting the image of a girl who’d just finished up a fan signing in Los Angeles. This Lake deflated with each step she took, small despite her giant, willowy frame. Her obvious misery only made me that much more uncomfortable.

  “Um.”

  Lake’s little voice snapped me out of my thoughts. I looked up, immediately shaken by the sight of the very tall Lake looking down at me.

  “Um . . . hi,” she said.

  Well, at least it was straight to the point.

  “Hi . . .”

  I was incredibly, mysteriously aware of myself. Rhys, Belle, and the other agents walked a little faster than the rest of us as they discussed Ortega’s latest progress report on the coming operation. Chae Rin slowed down, meandering between both groups—excited, no doubt, to hear the impending awkwardness behind her. I wasn’t quite terrible enough to scurry ahead while Lake was trying to make conversation, but . . . yeah. Awkward. I could still remember most of the bitchy comments I’d left on a Lake appreciation thread last week. Comments I’d written just to piss off the forum’s neighborhood Swans.

  I held on to the sleeves of my sweatshirt still tied around my waist. Lake ran her fingers through her straightened, shoulder-length black hair.

  “I’m Victoria—oh, I mean. Lake. Well . . .” She paused as if she couldn’t decide. “What’s your name?”

  In front of us, Chae Rin snorted but didn’t turn around.

  “Oh no, I hope you don’t mind if I ask. It’s just . . .” Lake nervous and cringing at her own ridiculousness was also not something I was familiar with. “I know them, all right.” She pointed at Chae Rin and Belle. “I mean, I’ve heard of them, at least. Haven’t met them. But you I haven’t even heard of. N-not that you’re not worth hearing about, of course . . . I didn’t . . .” She cut off her own rambling with a sheepish smile. “What’s your name?”

  I let my fingers trail the wall as I walked. “Maia.”

  “Maia?”

  “Finley.”

  “Oh, that’s cute!” Lake literally had soft gooey Bambi eyes that may or may not have sparkled a little as she perked up, delighted at the apparent progress of the conversation. “I met Natalya once. She was really nice—a bit intense, you know? But I guess that’s just how some people are.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I bet you’re probably feeling a bit like, um, like it’s big shoes. Right? I mean, Natalya was no joke.”

  “Why did you run?”

  What else could I even say to the girl whose fans I’d spent far too many cumulative hours arguing with online? Fans who’d probably still blindly defend her even if they knew about her attempted escape.

  Whatever life had returned to Lake’s face during that short conversation simply vanished. She stayed silent for a time, her heels clicking against the ground, her long fingers opening and closing at her sides. I noted her sharp intake of breath, but waited for her answer all the same.

  Finally it came: “Aren’t you scared too?” And with a little sad smile, Lake added, “Honestly? It’d be weirder if you weren’t.”

  She’d whispered it, as if afraid to let anyone but me hear.

  Aren’t you scared too?

  I couldn’t lie, but the truth disturbed me too much for me to admit. I opted for silence instead.

  We rounded a corner into a tiny corridor. Ortega stopped in front of a door with a small screen and keypad at its center, together rimmed in black. With deft fingers, he punched in the security code. The screen scanned his eyes, its faded blue light streaming into his face before vanishing in an instant.

  “Retina pattern confirmed,” came the computer in a feminine, dulcet tone as Ortega’s image appeared on the screen.

  “This is some Star Trek shit,” Chae Rin muttered without a hint of discretion.

  Star Trek indeed.

  After a series of loud clicks, the door slid open, revealing what literally looked like the bridge of the Enterprise. Communications was an enormous enclave with two stories of Sect employees working at computer terminals. The din enveloped me—chattering, ringing, the whir of sophisticated software, soft little pings each time a finger tapped the wide, translucent touch screens. On the second floor, agents rushed along walkways from the other side of long, clear windows. Everyone was too busy to even spare a glance for us.

  Belle walked up to one of the monitors in the back row, motioning us to follow her. “Maia,” she said. “Before we talk about the operation, there’s something you need to see.”

  Curious, I sidled up to her.

  “This is her,” Belle told the woman at the monitor. “Can you bring up the file?”

  It was a video of an alley in the night. A stray dog poked its nose through the pile of trash against the graffitied brick wall. Nothing really interesting, except for the sounds of utter chaos in the background. The guy holding the cell phone stumbled back and fell onto the concrete with a crash, his terrified whimpers barely audible underneath the clamor of shrieks and explosions. Something about this felt familiar.

  Steadily, the video panned up the side of the building. Up and up.

  And then there was a girl falling off the top floor of the building, flames enveloping her body, bricks bursting out into the air as the newly created weapon in her hands crashed into them.

  A scythe.

  An honest-to-god scythe.

  “No way.” My hands went bone cold. The camera followed the girl all the way down until she crashed, flesh and bone, against the alleyway.

  “That was . . .” I could barely form words. “That was—”

  “You.”

  It wasn’t Belle who’d spoken. A woman was descending the staircase fr
om the second floor, her hawk eyes already latched on to me. Hawk eyes, aquiline nose. High cheekbones, angles everywhere. The pale gray pantsuit was like milk splashed against her dark skin, clean-cut and professional. Everything about her was sharp enough to draw blood. It was a look that perfectly matched the confidence of her stride.

  “Sibyl Langley.” As the woman introduced herself, she stripped off her sleek black gloves and handed them to the mousy assistant scrambling behind her. “Director of the European Division.”

  I instinctively stepped back as she approached. “European Division?” I never would have guessed since our accents were identical.

  “A temporary replacement for Director Aleandro,” Belle explained. “For this mission at least.”

  I didn’t need to be told she was the one in charge. I sucked in a breath as Sibyl towered over me.

  “Was that . . . ?” I swallowed, focusing on the floor. “Was that really me?”

  “It was,” Sibyl said, quick and blunt. “And trust me, it wasn’t easy to pull that off the internet before it could go viral. Maia, I want you to come with me. And the other Effigies too. You should all hear this.”

  “What is this about?” My heart was beating rapidly now. “What does any of this have to do with the operation?”

  “Quite a bit,” answered Sibyl. “Since you’re the key to the whole mission.”

  SIBYL AND HER ASSISTANT CHERYL were the only Sect personnel that came with us into the tactical operations room, which was freezing. The air-conditioning must have been running on overdrive. I slipped my sweatshirt back on, but still didn’t feel comfortable.

  As I took a seat at the long oval table, my hands started to shake. I felt like I’d just been dumped into a dangerous parallel universe with nothing to fend for myself but a spoon and some hair bands.

  This was it. The real mission. The blood was already pumping fast through my veins.