by Meg Xuemei X
“The founder is all about hunting down the Siren race.”
“How does he sound?”
“You shouldn’t ask, Mirrikh,” Bayrose said, not looking at him. “You know the rule. It’s dangerous to even speak of it. The founder has a way of knowing everything.”
“My apologies,” Mirrikh said. Bayrose could feel he stiffened as he looked around.
They stood silently, then Mirrikh said, “If you do this, you’re on your own.”
“I’m ready.”
“A sheep thinks she can take down wolves.”
“I’m not a sheep!” said Bayrose. “I’m not the little girl you used to play with. You need to accept that and adjust your perception of me!”
“Fine, you’ll lead the wolves and guide them with wisdom,” Mirrikh said with a smirk. “You look lovely and fragile, which makes any man want to protect you. Sphinxes is full of alpha males. Your plan can work.”
For a fleeting second, Bayrose sensed that Mirrikh had his own agenda. But then he’d always had an agenda. “It’ll work. It must work,” she said.
She had the Shadow.
Blood Tear, Shadow, and Devourer were the three gifts from an angel. Her ancestors chronicled the encounter with the angel, whose gifts verified that the bloodline Bayrose inherited was the chosen one— only the Sirens hijacked their birthright.
The Scroll of the Prophecy—known to the Sirens as the last scroll—also confirmed the truth of the secret history. The Sirens were usurpers from the beginning. Bayrose must correct the error and take back what was rightfully hers.
Her line had been carefully preserved. After one of her founder ancestors had been assassinated nine centuries ago, her family had created the rank of twelve elders, but unknown to all, one of the elders—the speaker was actually the founder.
Bayrose Thorn was now the new founder of the Sealers.
Even Mirrikh, her closest ally, had no idea of the secret structure of the Sealers, nor did he know about the Shadow.
The Shadow wasn’t from Earth. The angel hadn’t told her ancestors of its origin. It had the appearance of a triangular leaf, and on each side overlapped two smaller triangles. Under a microscope, one could see intricate runes all over the delicate leaf. No one could decode the runes. All her ancestors knew was that the Shadow was the shield. It safeguarded the mind of its host from any supernatural force.
But there was a cost. The Shadow would eventually consume its host. No mortal could resist its will. In the end, the carrier would even have a shadowy personality. Bayrose wasn’t too concerned about that. She had no sunshine left in her since the day Vladimir had left. The day the Siren’s forces had reduced her daddy to scattered ashes at the bottom of the Polynesian sea.
Right after McQuillen’s captivity, Bayrose had formed a perfect plan—she’d go deep undercover in the enemy’s camp, just as Prince Vladimir had done to hers.
How would he react when he saw her again? Her heart hurt so much at picturing him. With the Shadow in her, she’d be safe in guarding her mind, and probably her heart.
When the leaf-like Shadow had first touched her tongue, it had turned into a hovering, dark mist before vanishing inside her. Then it had spread like a web until it had reached every cell of hers and taken residency. She’d crouched at the corner of room, alone and silent and sweating, until the panic attack had passed.
But when she’d risen to her feet, she’d never felt more powerful and guarded. The Shadow was the impenetrable wall around her, and cocooned inside, she was safe from the whole world except the Shadow itself.
Mirrikh murmured something beside her and cut off her trance. She turned to him, a coldness that she hadn’t had before coating her eyes.
“I have a better plan,” Mirrikh said, “which doesn’t involve risking you.”
For a cunning second, she knew his intention. Was it because of the Shadow? Had it already made her sharper? “Does it involve a massacre?” she asked.
“You’ve become razor-sharp, Rose,” he said, and Bayrose detected a trace of nostalgia in his voice. “The sweetest little girl I played with has grown up overnight, and now she wants to take over the world.”
“What’s your game, Mirrikh?” she asked impatiently.
“I believe you know more of Devourer than I do since you’re now the speaker.”
Bayrose managed to stand very still. Was he baiting her? “What do you know about it?”
Mirrikh regarded her reaction. “All elders know we have this top-secret, ancient weapon that can vaporize the world’s population in mere seconds.”
Bayrose gave a one-shoulder shrug to make the matter lighter. “So?”
“It will be a magnificent sight when we unleash it,” Mirrikh said, his eyes flashing a feverish light.
“It will be hell on earth.”
“We should have brought hell on earth a long time ago,” Mirrikh said, biting his fingernails. “Why didn’t the founder use it in Sphinxes before the Siren’s forces struck us in Polynesia? Have you ever wondered about that?”
She’d lost her father in that war. She didn’t understand either why father hadn’t used Devourer to completely vanquish their ancient enemy. Why had father gone through that elaborate scheme to poison the Siren at the cost of his own life? When he’d sunk with Rose, Mother had been nowhere near. Bayrose knew that Mom had always been the one who called the shots. So, had Mother been behind all this? Had she let her husband die and poisoned the Siren, but had refused to deploy Devourer?
Was Mother still in control of the Sealers despite Bayrose being founder now? Why hadn’t Bayrose had the access code to Devourer? She must thoroughly search father’s digital safety box to find the rest of the secrets he’d left her. She’d do it tonight. It would be a nightmare if Devourer fell into the wrong hands, in particular Mirrikh’s.
“Devourer is our last line of defense,” Bayrose drawled. “The founder won’t use it unless our very survival is under threat.”
“Our survival has been under threat since the rising of the Siren girl and Sphinxes.”
“Unleashing Devourer is not for us to decide,” Bayrose snapped. “And the Polynesian war was but a small sacrifice.” Is it really?
Mirrikh turned to her with a piercing look. Bayrose didn’t flinch, even though her heart stumbled. Had she let slip the truth? She couldn’t afford to let Mirrikh or anyone suspect her true role.
“I’ve been wondering,” he said in a calculating voice, “if the founder survived in Polynesia, or if the new founder is a he or she.” His gaze could have bored a hole in her face. “Only you know, Rose. You’re the only one who has heard his or her voice, or maybe even met the founder in person.”
He was baiting her, but she saw through him. Somehow she had this confidence she’d never possessed before. Mirrikh could no longer manipulate or outmaneuver her. No one could. The Shadow had taken root in her. “Mirrikh, stop this!” she cut in with a note of warning. “Do not test me again.”
“My apologies,” he said. “But Rose, you haven’t realized how important your role is as the speaker for the founder. You’ll be his counsel. You’ll gain more influence and experience in time. When the day comes, will you speak to the founder for all the elders, including me?”
“Of course I will. What is your request?”
“Set the Devourer on Sphinxes and erase the plague from this already polluted planet. We’re tired of lurking in the shadows with secret handshakes. We’re the new generation who deserve the limelight. Let the world see us as we truly are. All shall fear us!”
“We’ll rid the world of the plague,” Bayrose said, “but why destroy Sphinxes when we have an opportunity to add it as our extra resources? I’m going there to make it happen. Plus, we’ll have to consider innocent people on that island before resorting to ultimate violence.”
“You mean Prince Vladimir?”
“Prince Vladimir is everything but innocent.” Bayrose kept her emotions in check. “And he means nothing to m
e. But as I said, I’m not a butcher.”
“What if you can’t win Sphinxes?”
“Then I’ll talk the founder into unleashing Devourer onto that island.”
“What about the innocent ones you mentioned earlier?”
Bayrose whipped around toward Mirrikh. “Are you really enjoying pushing my buttons?”
Mirrikh chuckled. “No, Rose, no. I just want you to see that you and I are more alike than you realize.”
She disagreed. But one thing she knew—she was no longer the sweet Rose. And the Shadow had set her on the path of no return.
Carrying a paper cup of coffee and a pastry on a paper plate, Bayrose stepped through the door to Kian McQuillen’s cell.
“Leave us,” she told the guards. One of them held the steel door.
“My lady—” a leading guard said nervously.
“Don’t make me repeat myself,” Bayrose said, her stern voice at odds with her looks. It was as if a sweet child forced herself to be unfriendly.
“Yes, Lady Thorn.” The guards withdrew.
Bayrose closed the steel door behind her and breathed out. She knew the guards weren’t far off. “Light,” she ordered.
An artificial light filled the room.
Still chained to the wall, McQuillen sat despite his injuries.
Is this man truly made of steel? Bayrose stood unmoved beside the door for a good full minute as her mind went blank. She had no clue what she should do next. Then she remembered the coffee in her hand. She walked toward Kian McQuillen, her hand shaking slightly, and the coffee swayed. Bayrose stopped, took a deep breath, and steadied the tray in her hands.
She bent down, put the food and drink before the man, and stepped back.
He didn’t spare a glance at the coffee, but she knew how much he needed it. The jailers hadn’t fed him for two days. He stared at her with a blank expression. With the Shadow in her, Bayrose could sense the burning lava beneath his expressionless mask. He wanted to tear her apart for the poison she’d helped deliver to his Siren.
But Bayrose refused to obey her instinct to recoil from him. She squatted in front of him and held his stare. “I’m Bayrose Thorn,” she said softly and sadly. “I’m sorry they tortured you. I just arrived.”
Lying was so easy now with the Shadow in her.
McQuillen picked up the coffee. Involuntarily Bayrose leaned back to give him a wide berth. The coffee was room temperature. If he threw it at her, it wouldn’t hurt her physically, but it might hurt her feelings.
McQuillen took a big swig of the coffee, not wanting to waste it on her, then finished the rest in one gulp. He crumpled the empty cup and tossed it aside, not at her.
Guess he’s still a gentleman, even though he wants to kill me. Bayrose tried not to flinch under his assessment. He exuded an aura of command and formidability, being chained in a dungeon made no difference.
“Mr. McQuillen,” she said, her chin cocking toward the corner of the ceiling, “I’ve disabled the cameras.”
McQuillen didn’t respond, but narrowed his eyes on her with that unnerving look of his. Once again, she wanted to run away from him, but then a courage she hadn’t known came from the pit of her belly. She would handle a legend like him. She was a ruler, born and tailored to inherit an ancient kingdom—a powerful shadow government on earth.
“We don’t have much time.” She kept going, afraid if she stopped, she’d lose her nerve. She gestured at the pastry in front of him. “It was supposed to be your last meal. They’ll execute you in two hours. You’re too dangerous to be kept alive.” She saw a query in his eyes. For the first time, he was responsive to her. “That’s why they didn’t put you in Abaddon 5.”
“Is Samantha in Abaddon 5?” McQuillen asked, his hard eyes still locked on her.
He’s trying to detect my lie. “Was,” she said. “She escaped.”
“How?” he demanded, his voice rough and cold.
Bayrose had arranged it as instructed. She’d left a crack for Samantha to get away. She shook her head. “We don’t know. Samantha is a well-connected elder. She has people everywhere. Her secret agents inside the prison must have aided her. The founder isn’t pleased. Abaddon 5 is under tight investigation.”
A mosaic of emotions flashed by McQuillen’s eyes, but Bayrose had caught them. Sphinxes’ chief was beyond bitter for missing an “appointment” with the woman he’d come for. He’d thrown himself at his enemy for nothing. He’d failed his Siren queen. His rage was terrible, but she wasn’t as afraid of him as before. She had her own power. She felt joy at reading his emotions. She was certain now the Shadow didn’t just shield her. It also gave her perspective.
She’d further crush McQuillen’s hope. She hadn’t been this vindictive, but she’d learned from the master—Prince Vladimir. His devotion to his Siren made him cruel to her, and thus Bayrose became a cruel conductor herself. They’d made her this way.
“Samantha went to Abaddon 5 voluntarily,” Bayrose said. “No one can find her if she doesn’t want to be found. I heard that it once took seven years for all of the elders, putting all their resources together, to just get the wind of her. That was before I was born.” So good luck, Mr. McQuillen. Your Siren doesn’t even have a month. The Shadow concealed her delight. “I’m very sorry, Mr. McQuillen.” She controlled the urge to tell him that there was no antidote to the poisoned Nexus Tear on earth or in heavens. But she bit her tongue. It wouldn’t help her plan if she snuffed out his last, doomed-to-fail hope.
For a fleeting second, she felt his broken spirit. Kian McQuillen wasn’t untouchable after all. Lucienne Lam was his weakness. If Bayrose ever needed to strike him, she knew where to hit. However, he wasn’t her target.
“What do you want, Miss Thorn?” he asked, his eyes harder than anything she’d seen. “Why did you come to bring me my last meal and tell me all this?”
“I must let you know it wasn’t me who poisoned Lucienne,” Bayrose said.
“Don’t kid yourself,” McQuillen said. “You had a red hand in poisoning my queen. You’re not innocent.”
“I didn’t mislead Prince Vladimir intentionally,” Bayrose said, holding back tears. “I even let him inject a liquid bomb in me to show that I was truthful to him before he went to extricate Nexus Tear. He wanted it so badly, and all I wanted was to make him happy.” She paused to control her emotion. “Lucienne’s father returned later and told the elders he poisoned his own daughter. The virus was added an hour before her arrival. I had no idea. I’ve grieved for her, for Prince Vladimir, for my father ever since. I grieve that the war cost good people on both sides. And I don’t want the war to continue.”
As Vladimir’s name poured out of her tongue, an unexpected agony slammed into her. His cocky grin flashed by her eyes. I still love him, despite his betrayal. I even love his flaws. The realization brought her more misery, and she allowed the pain to sink in her eyes. She knew that McQuillen saw it. Being raw, real, and vulnerable was the best move in front of an alpha male. “The founder used my feelings for Prince Vladimir, and unknowingly I became a pawn in his scheme.” Anger emitted from her eyes, and she tried not to be bothered by how closely McQuillen scrutinized her.
“You were a willing pawn since Lucienne is your rival for Blazek’s affection,” he said.
“I didn’t realize that Lucienne was even in the picture,” Bayrose said, and the distress couldn’t be plainer in her eyes. “Prince Vladimir and I were—close. He was always tender and loving toward me. I pieced everything together only after he was gone and never returned. Even if I was aware that Lucienne was Prince Vladimir’s—” she swallowed, “—true love, I wouldn’t have won him over by hurting her. It isn’t in my nature to harm people. And it wouldn’t have worked anyway. I’m sixteen, but I am not that foolish.” Sorrow passed over her face. “I’m terribly sorry that Lucienne is also a victim. If the founder and my father could have realized that no one would have gained from this war, then—”
“Your apolog
y means nothing while Lucienne suffers from the poison,” McQuillen said.
“I wish I was the one being poisoned instead of her,” Bayrose said. No, of course I don’t wish that. If she could, she’d shove the Blood Tear down the Siren’s throat herself. Because of Lucienne, Bayrose had taken in the Shadow. There was no antidote for that either.
“It doesn’t change a thing.” Kian McQuillen remained untouched. “It doesn’t matter if I believe that you’re innocent or not. I’ll be dead in the next hour.”
“It matters to me very much,” she said, “because I’m going to help you escape.” She caught a fleeting spark in McQuillen’s steely eyes before it vanished. She bet he’d give everything to see his Siren queen again, yet he didn’t show a thread of desperation.
“I can’t give Lucienne the antidote. I don’t know if anyone has it,” she said. “But I can give you back to her.”
“Just like that?”
“I want something in return,” she said. Only the naïve believed people did good deeds without an agenda, and McQuillen was the opposite of the naïve. She must give her enemy a plausible intention. “If I give you back your freedom, you’ll guarantee mine. I want no part in this war, but I’m an elder’s only heir. I haven’t been able to escape this horror since I was born. All my life I’ve been living inside a golden cage. Now I’ve become speaker for the founder. I’m to be put in a more decorated cage.”
“You think I’m your chance of getting out of the cage?”
“I intend to go with you to Sphinxes.”
“Don’t you fear you might be put in another kind of cage—a crude one—if you go with me to Sphinxes?”
“At least it won’t be the one in which I’ve been trapped for sixteen years and maybe forever,” Bayrose said fiercely. “At least there’ll be a change of scenery. At least the founder can’t find me there.” She let out a breath and slowed the rhythm of her speech. “I haven’t had a chance to see the outside world and live a life I want. This is my only opening to be free of war and politics.” She saw something flashing beneath McQuillen’s eyes. Pity? She was close to Lucienne’s age. Did McQuillen think of Lucienne when looking at Bayrose? Pity or not, she must invoke this alpha male’s need to protect the weak.
