Veil of Justice, Shadows of Justice Book 3

by Regan Black

  "Count backwards from one hundred," he said.

  Jaden shoved at his shoulder. "Stop showing off and open it already."

  In her mind, Kelly ticked off ninety-nine, ninety-eight, ninety-seven, and then Cleveland's flashlight lit up the dark interior, sweeping across treasures of immeasurable value covered by a thin fog of dust. "Get it and let's get gone," he said.

  Kelly recognized the map box at once. Eagerly answering its quiet call, she darted inside, returning a moment later with the ornate box under her arm. "Done," she said, feeling the grin splitting her face. Not the coolest, or calmest, she was definitely the happiest.

  Cleveland looked longingly at the full, neatly labeled shelves, but Jaden grabbed his sleeve. "Not this time."

  "Aww." His eyes sparkled with an idea. "It'd clutter up the investigators."

  "No," Jaden said.

  Though she was more than a little mesmerized by the box, Kelly heard the vault door swoosh closed and Jaden and Cleveland saying goodbye.

  She aimed herself toward the stairs, but Jaden pulled her aside. "Slide it in here." When the map box was covered, she gave Kelly a nudge and they headed up to the next level. Cleveland apparently had another way out.

  "There's an old employee exit at the next landing. It's closer to the rendezvous point anyway."

  Kelly nodded, her voice too clogged with emotion to speak. Maybe her father was right and she didn't have the guts to be a real guardian. It was hard to imagine her stoic brothers suffering from a cold, nervous sweat while on duty. She was experiencing a vicious cycle of goose bumps and shivers exacerbated by the museum's climate control systems.

  To Kelly's overwrought senses it felt like she'd been shot from a cannon when they exploded into the night as Jaden opened the door on the lake side of the building. A sharp wind kicked up and she shivered again, but didn't miss a step as they jogged to the observatory.

  An abrupt giggle was the only warning of attack. How had Kristoff's pet killer tracked them?

  Jaden was jogging and then she was down. Kelly reacted on instinct. Slinging the bag with the map box around to her back, she faced Simon with her dirk in one hand and short sword in the other.

  "Whatcha got?" he said in his odd voice trapped between man and boy.

  Kelly didn't waste breath or thought on an answer, she sensed a simple conversation wouldn't deter him this time. She watched his movements and waited for the opening.

  He lunged, she followed the motion, twisting away at the last second. It was as if time stilled, she saw every specific thing, every particle of everything in vivid detail. The next thrust, the sweeping kick, an angry lash before he regained control of himself. And as she evaded, she even saw the blood droplets plinking one by one from Jaden's temple to the sidewalk.

  Anger, grief, it was all far from her as she focused on the fight, on keeping this moment separate from the next. He had the longer reach, but he moved so slowly she only had to wait for the moment she could dart inside his guard. Her dirk found its mark twice and wet ribbons of blood trailed along his arm.

  A siren wailed, distracting Simon. She kicked, her foot connected with his head, just ahead of the flat of her sword. He bled like Jaden, from the temple, but stayed upright. Then he lunged again. She slid away, but he caught the strap of the tote holding the map box.

  She groped to hang on, but it slid from her body and skittered away, the sound like sandpaper to her hyper-sensitive ears. Ignoring Simon, she dove, putting all her effort into reclaiming the map box. But Simon wasn't alone. Another man, in black combat gear, burst from the shadows, grabbing the tote and disappeared into the dark again.

  Kelly screamed first at the loss, then as fire seared across her shoulder. Simon's Keris blade sang as it sliced through fabric and skin. Then she was alone.

  Time snapped violently back to normal speed and Kelly lay on the Chicago sidewalk, sobbing at her utter failure.

  They'd taken the box and her blood with it.

  It was over. She'd failed. She'd proved all her father's worries correct – she was the ultimate failure of her family and the legacy of protection they'd provided for centuries. She couldn't even manage to avenge their deaths. Gripping her sword, she rolled to her back, ignoring the white-hot flash of pain in her shoulder. She dropped the dirk and spun the sword around, prepared to drive it down, through her belly.

  Her hands didn't move. Wouldn't move.

  She tried, and failed, to lift her belly to the blade. Her hips wouldn't cooperate. She couldn't even release the scream building inside her.

  Paracuron. Kristoff's assassin must have laced his blade with the drug.

  "You wish," Nathan replied, as she sank into the darkness crowding her vision.

  * * *

  Fear had always been a vague, foggy sort of theory, until now. Kristoff tried to shake it off as he watched Simon's approach on the monitor. The boy's face was swollen and bleeding, and still he moved unerringly toward their hideout, a dark, slim tote in his hands.

  Pride pushed back fear.

  Simon, unstoppable, remained Kristoff's secret weapon in this war for his future. He pressed the door's release code and then hurried to the stairs. He wanted to greet Simon, but more he wanted to get that damned box safely locked away.

  "That's it?" he asked, fingers twitching toward the tote. He didn't ask about the injuries, having taught Simon to treat most common wounds himself.

  Simon nodded, sending the trickle of blood on a new path across his cheek.

  Kristoff held out his hands. Tears of relief filled his eyes as he unzipped it and looked inside. "Ah." He clutched the tote to his chest, studied the battered face of his assassin. "She fought hard to keep it."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Then it was worth it. It must be the real one." He sighed. To hold the genuine article at last – to have and all the answers and leverage he would ever need. "Witnesses?"

  "Not anymore." An odd smile twisted Simon's puffy lips.

  So he'd defeated the female guardian and eliminated the team who'd accompanied him on the museum mission. Kristoff didn't blink at the loss of life, had expected it when Nin had insisted the girl be kept alive. Simon needed to feed the hunger that raged inside him and soldiers were easy enough to replace.

  "To your room, Simon," Kristoff ordered. The boy wouldn't want praise and shouldn't see his master celebrating the accomplishment. They parted, Simon taking the stairs down and Kristoff going up.

  In his private quarters, Kristoff pulled the map box away from the tote and ran his hands over the ornate surface. It was long and slim, carved of a mysterious wood that seemed to absorb the light.

  The copy had been excellent, all the same details, but none of the magnetism that emanated from the box itself. Kristoff stroked the wood, tracing the intricate loops with his fingertips, becoming mesmerized by the pattern.

  Nin, the first and greatest goddess – in her own mind – had explicitly ordered him to turn it over to her the instant it was retrieved. Though he knew she watched him, like she'd watched the girl, he couldn't make himself do it.

  He needed one more minute. Just one peek inside and then he'd hand it over.

  Kristoff reached for the plain clasp that secured the box exactly on center. The ancient brass was warm to the touch and as simple in design as the box was ornate.

  He turned the toggle and screamed in pain. Angry red streaks raced up his fingers, into his hand, leaving chalky black stains behind. He rubbed and rubbed, but only aggravated the lingering burn.

  After glaring at the box, he went searching for the right tools. He didn't have time to waste.

  Pliers and a knife failed him, so he looked longingly at the hammer. Nothing seemed as wrong as destroying that perfectly carved wood, but he was equally compelled to get inside it.

  Now.

  The hammer felt awkward in his left hand, but his right hand still burned, so he swung at the lock anyway. Two glancing blows had him cursing and lining up for a third.

/>   The strike was true, but the effect devastating. The hammer shattered, sending splinters into his arm, face and chest.

  Kristoff screamed in pain and frustration.

  "Foolish man," Nin said.

  The dark, echoing voice made him wish for a swift death. The last shred of his pride kept him stubbornly on his feet as the goddess of the damned swept up the box and disappeared.

  Taking all his leverage with her.

  * * *

  Kelly was afraid to open her eyes. She knew she was back at Slick Micky's infirmary, the rich scent of coffee under the antiseptic gave it away, but shame – her wearying companion – kept her eyes closed.

  Suicide? Really?

  She vaguely recalled distorted voices arguing over her, over what transpired at the museum, but she couldn't recall if they'd come to any conclusions.

  She'd certainly reached her own conclusions and she hadn't changed her mind since. Thorough, complete, and irrevocable failure. Not that it mattered on a personal level, since she'd soon be written out of the family records, but the professional level was a different story.

  With the map box, Kristoff could plunder relics of immeasurable value and auction them to the highest bidder – or worse – use them to gain power over humanity. The man had already proven himself violent and diabolical in his manipulation of the government and the men and women who served with such courage.

  Taking her own life had seemed the best possible solution. Still did.

  "I know you're faking."

  She ignored Nathan and the words that whispered across her cheek since she was on her stomach. She supposed that made it easier for them to treat the wound that marked her ultimate failure.

  "You want us to pour salt in it?"

  "Go away, Nathan," she mumbled, squeezing her eyes closed against the welling tears of self loathing. Anger was the next byproduct and she lurched up, grabbing at his shirt. "Why couldn't you let me die?"

  "Me? What the hell? I didn't do anything."

  He did a pretty good innocent look, but she didn't buy it. She flopped back onto the pillow, wincing at the pain in her shoulder. No one but Nathan possessed the talent to paralyze her long distance. Besides, she'd heard his voice as she struggled to end her life honorably.

  "You didn't hear me. I was at Lorine's lab," he answered aloud.

  "Since you won't stay out of my head, I'll point out that you're the only one who had any motive to prevent me from doing – doing…that."

  "Gutting yourself on the street, you mean?"

  Oh, it sounded so ugly when he said it like that.

  "Would've looked a whole lot worse. Petra told me you grew up in some kind of secret, extreme security society. Wasn't selfish bred out of the genes a few generations ago?"

  "Selfish?!" She was up again, this time she made it to her knees. She wanted to pummel him, but it was a clumsy attack that only made her feel more inept when he immediately regained control and settled her back down. Out of breath, she glared at the big palm resting on her chest.

  "Cool it. You'll pop your stitches."

  Too bad that wouldn't mean bleeding out.

  Nathan glared, his hand shoved her deeper into the bed then he abruptly released her. "Fine. You wanna die? I sure as hell can't stop you. But I don't have to stick around for a useless pity party. Give me a call if you get over yourself."

  Kelly watched him leave, or she would have if she could've seen through her tears. Names of the horrible and insulting variety flashed through her mind and she pressed the pillow over her face and screamed, berating herself.

  * * *

  Nathan rolled his eyes at his sister, but she stayed parked in the doorway. "A little rough in there weren't you?"

  "She needs a wake up call. Maybe some electric shock therapy." He tried to maneuver around, but her protruding belly was immovable. Her hands popped to her hips and trepidation ran icy fingers over his neck. "What aren't you telling me?"

  Petra grabbed his arm and dragged him away from the infirmary, down the stairs. He tried to peek into her thoughts but she elbowed him, so he backed off. Exiting the stairs at the sign for the gym, she pushed him ahead of her, past rows of machines and free weights, and into a small office.

  Jaden's name was on the door, but Jaden was out. Thank God. He wasn't ashamed to admit he couldn't handle the both of them at once.

  "Sit." Petra leaned back on the desk, obviously trying to get herself under control. "You've been close to Kelly – at least telepathically – for some time."

  Nathan nodded slowly, the safest response considering her mood.

  "You share a unique bond with her, am I right?"

  "I thought so." He wouldn't confess to anything more until he knew what she was after.

  "What you do know about her?"

  "That's personal, Sis. I don't want to divulge things she'd rather not advertise."

  It was the wrong thing to say, he saw it instantly as Petra's eyes narrowed. Nathan wished for an escape. A hole in the floor would be welcome about now.

  "Oh, I see. You know absolutely nothing."

  The sympathy in her voice brought him out of his chair. "That's not true." He towered over her, ready to have this fight if she kept pushing him. "I know she's a private person with –"

  "Why'd she go to the museum last night?"

  Nathan started to answer, but stopped, suddenly unsure. "We only talked for a second." He retreated back to his chair. "She said she had to get a family heirloom before Kristoff did."

  Petra's gaze drifted past him. "That's true…"

  He didn't like the way her voice trailed away. It meant she was thinking, measuring her words and opting to withhold information. "What aren't you telling me?" His heart slugged in his chest. "Petra!"

  Her attention whipped back to him, her eyes bright as they met his. "You're right, of course." She turned away. "It isn't my place to share her secrets."

  He reached for her, and realized the error too late to stop the contact. Petra was running wide open and for a moment he shared his sister's empathic grief for Kelly's tragedy. He saw lifeless bodies scattered about a barren landscape and a stoic crowd of black-veiled people weeping around a fresh grave.

  The spike of disappointment that Kelly hadn't trusted him with this compounded it all. Beneath the frustration, he surprised himself. None of it changed his desire to help her or muted his personal passion for her. "I've got to get back up there." He had to apologize.

  "Wait. There's something else. Based on what you did for her tonight –"

  Nathan frowned. "I didn't do anything. I was in the lab with Lorine and more notes and samples than I ever want to see again."

  Petra tilted her head, her eyes full of disappointment. She thought he was lying.

  Whatever. Her lack of trust hurt a little, but it wasn't his top priority. He was a strong telekinetic and a stronger telepath, and he recognized some very strange jumps in his talents since the prison break. But the moment Kelly had reached the museum she'd pushed him out of her head. He hadn't known she'd tried to gut herself until he'd seen the feed from the camera Brian had secretly planted on Jaden. He'd felt an odd mix of panic and rage. She shouldn't have been alone – shouldn't have been out there without him.

  "You've forgotten Mom and Dad used Kristoff's facility?"

  He shook his head, impatient to get back upstairs. This was old news. Kelly was here and now. "We've been through this. So the bastard worked a little magic when we were embryos. I think we've done fine anyway."

  "I keep telling you he programmed us to be susceptible to him, to respond when he calls us. For me, it was a bell that rendered me nearly useless. I was forced to help him."

  Nathan shook his head again. "No ringing in these ears. May I be excused now?" To his increasing irritation his sarcasm was lost on her.

  "In a minute. Chicago really isn't safe for you. Either of you.

  "Kristoff's pet assassin, Simon, was out there last night and he's never far from Kris
toff."

  "Then shouldn't we be searching and planning how to take him down?"

  "This isn't a military op. Let me look into a few things while you get away and get yourself back up to one hundred percent."

  He sneered at that. "Where would I go?"

  "You always say fresh air and sunshine. Go see if Kelly can find you some of both."

  "You want me out of the way."

  Petra smiled, but it was her wistful look. The same look that made him feel half a step behind the rest of the class. "It's not that simple. Something's brewing Nathan, and I get the sense that Kristoff's not the heart of it. We have to know what we're dealing with if we hope to recover Kelly's map box."

  "Can't you just ask Kelly?" he said.

  "How about if we make a deal? I'll work with Cleveland, Jaden, Brian, and Gideon on this side. Surely the five of us can find his hideout. You work on Kelly and then we'll plan our attack."

  "Attack?" That was a whole new side of his sister. "You've been hanging around Jaden too long." To his dismay, he saw tears spring to her eyes.

  "Damn hormones," she said, looking upward and blinking rapidly. "I've just found my sister and I'll be damned if I let a mad geneticist take my brother."

  Nathan opened his arms, letting her decide if she wanted the hug. She walked into his embrace and he held her close. "Okay. It's okay. We'll figure this out and put him down for good. I won't settle for anything less."

  She sniffled and backed away, nodding. "Go back up there and make things right with her."

  "Sure thing. Any suggestions for this prescribed getaway?"

  "Kelly will have a solution. Whatever you do, don't leave her alone."

  And on that cryptic comment, Petra dismissed him, settling herself behind Jaden's desk.

  "Happy researching," he muttered on his way out the door.

  Wasting no time, he headed for the stairs, knowing they'd be faster than the elevator. He didn't question the internal compulsion driving him back to Kelly's side. And taking the stairs two at a time proved he was healthier than anyone wanted to admit.