Inescapable (Talented Saga #7)

by Sophie Davis

  I smiled in spite of myself.

  “You should have seen the shenanigans she pulled to get us off Pelia,” Kip interjected.

  He didn’t sound nearly as awestruck as Riley had when talking about my abilities. Then again, the earthquake I’d conjured might have destroyed a large portion of Kip’s home.

  So, yeah, there was that.

  “So I guess Kenly is doing well,” I said, ignoring Kip’s commentary.

  Riley shrugged. “So-so. Our bunker doesn’t have windows, and she hasn’t seen sunlight in a month. Going outside is too chancy. But we do have the satellite images from around the world, so Kenly can virtually visit anywhere she likes.” He rolled his eyes. “And she has James. The two of them have settled quite nicely into domesticity.”

  “What about you and Willa? Do you guys get out of the, um, bunker much?”

  Willa was Riley’s longtime girlfriend. She’d been with us when we freed Kenly from the Poachers.

  “Look, this catch up hour is nice and all, but I don’t think sitting here, you know, in public, is a great idea,” Emma interrupted. Her eyes panned the crowded cafeteria nervously. A quick swipe of her emotions told me that it was the sheer volume of people that made her uncomfortable, more so than the chance that someone would recognize me. Emma was definitely having second thoughts about her decision to come along on what she’d anticipated would be an adventure. She hadn’t appreciated the magnitude of the risk she was taking by coming to the mainland.

  “You’re right,” Riley told Emma. “We should get going.” He turned to me. “If you truly believe that you can trust these two, that is. Without their last names, Kenly wasn’t able to work her magic and learn any information about them. She did find Pelia. Pretty secluded, isn’t it?”

  “I can trust them. I do trust them,” I told him honestly.

  “Can’t be too careful, luv,” Riley said. “I don’t suppose you watched the tele much in prison, but the list of people who want the lot of us dead or in captivity is longer than my leg.”

  “You know I wouldn’t bring wolves into your henhouse,” I replied. “You can trust them, Riley. And they won’t be here long, just long enough for Kip to regain strength to teleport them back home to Pelia.”

  “Good that,” Riley said. “What about you, Talia? How long are you thinking of staying?”

  “I don’t know. If it’s too big an imposition, I can be gone by nightfall,” I answered.

  I wasn’t sure where I would go, but I’d figure it out.

  Riley took my hand and squeezed. “You’re welcome with us as long as you need.” Those blue flames lit up his irises again. “I have a feeling you’re going to want to stay in London anyhow.” He rose and motioned for Kip, Emma, and I to do the same. “I’ll explain more about that once we’re at the bunker. Or Kenly can, either way. Now we should make tracks. That kid over there keeps eyeing you.”

  I followed Riley’s gaze to where a boy of ten or so sat with two adults, presumably his parents. Sure enough, the child’s eyes were glued to me. Pulling the hat lower on my forehead, I swallowed thickly.

  “Lead the way,” I declared.

  Riley spoke very little on the two-hour trip to the mysterious bunker. Several times he insisted we switch tube cars or depart a bus because he thought I was attracting too much attention. I felt the eyes on me, watching me with too much fervor to be chalked up to a passing interest. My sudden appearance in the Pink Giraffe, followed just as suddenly by my swift exit, was memorable, and I had little doubt UNITED was aware of my presence in London. I was uncertain what, if any, information they had leaked to the public. Regardless, they had spies everywhere, and Riley’s paranoia was not unfounded.

  Three buses, four tube lines, and a taxi ride later, we ended our journey only four blocks from where we’d started.

  “Didn’t we just pass Harrods?” Kip asked, confused.

  “Needed to make sure we didn’t have a tail, mate,” Riley replied.

  The hover taxi deposited us in a back alley, behind a main street with a variety of nightclubs, restaurants, and theaters. Riley paid the driver, adding a handsome tip to the already pricey fair. I took the liberty of altering the driver’s memories, just in case. Now, if anyone asked, he would remember only Kip and Emma, and even their images were now fuzzy in his mind.

  “This is us,” Riley declared, gesturing towards glass double doors. Between thick panes, bubbles swam from the bottom to the top of the doors. He inserted an old-fashioned brass key into the lock and twisted. Shooting furtive glances up and down the deserted alleyway, Riley motioned Emma, Kip, and I through the back entrance.

  “A nightclub, really?” I asked as Riley led our group down a dark hallway with numerous doors all marked Private. Ick, I didn’t want to know what went on inside those dens of sin.

  “James’s family owns it,” Riley called over his shoulder.

  I stopped short, causing Emma to stumble into the wall. She wiped furiously at her shoulder as though afraid she’d caught cooties from the paint. So caught up in my own thoughts, I’d tuned hers and Kip’s out. It was in that moment I understood just how surreal this all was for them both. I thought a nightclub a strange place for a bunker, but they found they idea of a nightclub in general strange and a little disturbing. That probably had to do with the advo signs we’d seen on the convoluted journey to Pure Bliss, which had all promised that euphoria waited within the glittering walls.

  “I’m sorry, you mean James’s family, as in the Poachers?” I asked.

  Riley turned and smiled. “That’s them. Not to worry, luv. Thanks to Bryn, James’s sister, those wanker parents of theirs are on the run. Last we heard, dear old mum and dad were in Budapest. Bryn’s been managing this place, as well as several of the other family businesses. She’s upped the wages for the Chromes, found them decent lodging, and even given them a stipend from the family coiffeurs to get the lot started. It was her who thought of us kipping in the bunker. It was built ages ago as a hideout, you know, just in case Chrome slavery ever became illegal and the Wellingtons became outlaws. Come on, Kenly will have my nads if we don’t hurry.”

  I knew that Bryn had been feeding information on the Poachers to Victoria and her people, but I hadn’t been aware that UNITED was being proactive about hunting down the organization’s ringleaders. If the poaching families really were on the run, that meant I was wrong.

  At the end of the hallway, Riley rounded the corner and led us through a set of frosted glass doors. Inside was Pure Bliss’s VIP suite. And it was bliss. Modeled after balconies at opera houses, the lounge area was a mix of Victorian era elegance and Ann Lisian modernity. Long, leather couches ran across three of the four tiers. Chrome tables engraved in an old world design sat in front of the bench-style seats. Frosted purple glass buckets were strategically placed on the tables, just waiting for bottles of champagne to be placed inside. The flutes surrounding each bucket were the same frosted purple glass.

  The top tier was smaller than the other three and raised high above them. One wraparound sofa curved the perimeter of the dais like a giant python. The ice bucket on the accompanying platinum table was solid gold.

  “Best seat in the house,” Riley informed us needlessly, pointing to the top tier. “Only place you can see the show down below.” This time he gestured to the empty space below the railing at the front of the balcony. I peered down. Ten stories below me was a giant stage, surrounded by a bar and dance floor on each side. It seemed the main part of the club was actually underground, since we’d entered this floor from street-level.

  “What’s above the nightclub?” I asked.

  “Bryn keeps a flat for herself up there. It’s huge. If we weren’t so worried about Kenly being spotted by UNITED, we’d stay there, too. Right now, the bunker’s a much better hiding spot.” Pushing aside a heavy curtain of black and gold velvet between the third and fourth tiers, Riley opened a black door that blended almost seamlessly with the wall. If not for the gold ha
ndle, I wouldn’t have noticed it at all.

  “The lift only stops three places,” Riley informed us as he motioned for Kip, Emma, and I to board the elevator. He pointed towards the ceiling. “Bryn’s place.” He nodded towards the open door. “VIP lounge.” He tapped his foot three times on the floor of the elevator. “And the storeroom. Very few people have access to it, so no worries on the unexpected visitor front.”

  The elevator was the kind with buttons and levers as opposed to bio scanners and voice commands. In order to make the car move, Riley first needed to insert another of his brass keys into a slot beneath the single row of buttons. Then, he pulled the lever to one side and hit the button marked SR.

  Emma and Kip might have had more experience with supposedly extinct powers, such as teleportation, but elevators were a revelation for them. Emma clung tightly to her boyfriend, eyes round as pool balls, when the car started its descent. Kip tried to play it cool, patting Emma’s back and promising her that it would be okay, but he was just as uneasy about the mode of transportation.

  “It’s just a lift,” Riley grumbled.

  “A lift?” Emma squeaked. “But it feels like we’re going down, not up.”

  “Let it go,” I told Riley as the car came to stop.

  “Bunker level, where you’ll find techno equipment, bedding, and fugitives,” Riley said, speaking in a falsetto.

  “Show me the fugitives first,” I deadpanned.

  “Right this way, Miss Escaped Convict.” Riley bowed deeply.

  Emma and Kip did not find our banter funny. This being their first foray into the murky pool of morality and even murkier pool of legality, I couldn’t blame them. Being a wanted criminal and skirting ethical lines was something I was used to, as was Riley.

  The lift opened into a large storage closet with boxes of pricey alcohol. Riley dragged a large box with DeHallow Whiskey emblazoned on the side from one corner. Then, he bent and pulled a silver handle I hadn’t noticed right away. The trapdoor popped open. Voices speaking all different languages drifted up through the opening.

  “Last stop, guys. Welcome to the bunker.” With that, Riley dropped through the trapdoor.

  I looped one arm through Kip’s and one through Emma’s and half-dragged the pair to the opening. Riley was halfway down a metal ladder. When he saw me peering down at him, he jumped the last several feet to the ground. His boots made a dull thud when the soles connected with the carpet.

  “Riley! Where is she?” I heard Kenly call, and then her big brown eyes were gazing up at me.

  A tremendous weight lifted from my chest at the sight of my former mentee. She looked good. Paler than normal, which was saying something, but lack of sunlight did that to people. Kenly had always been tall and thin, but the last time I’d seen her she was emaciated. Not anymore. She’d put on a good fifteen pounds and looked much healthier for it.

  Tears shimmered on her lashes, and she waved excitedly. I didn’t bother with the ladder, since the drop was only about ten feet. As soon as I landed, Kenly’s arms encircled my shoulders in a crushing hug.

  “Oh my gosh, you have to tell me everything.” She pushed me away gently and examined me. “Prison life must have been awful.” She squeezed my biceps. “Did you spend all your time working out? I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. I can’t believe they put you in jail for helping me! That Victoria lady is such a wench! Are you hungry? I’ll have something special sent down and you can tell me everything. Nice clothes by the way. Oh, is this them?” Kenly spoke so fast that my head spun with the effort of keeping up with her. Only the sight of Emma and Kip, who had joined us in the bunker, was enough to staunch the flow of verbal vomit Kenly was expelling.

  “Wow. One question at time, okay? First, yes, this is Emma and Kip.” I pointed to the two islanders. They waved hello. “Life on Vault wasn’t so bad. Quiet. Very quiet. Which was nice. And, no, Kenly, it wasn’t your fault.”

  Guilt wafted off of her, the aroma reminiscent of overripe fruit.

  “I made a decision, and I had to live with the consequences. Besides, my list of infractions had a lot more on it than letting you guys go.” I glanced around the bunker, impressed by the size and amenities. “Nice digs.”

  “It’s not much, but I like it,” Kenly replied, grinning.

  Not much was an understatement. The fallout shelter consisted of one enormous oval room—seriously, it spanned two city blocks—with screen dividers spread throughout. It reminded me of office cubicles, but way nicer.

  “Is this where you live?” Emma asked, speaking for the first time. “I was expecting something a lot more primitive.”

  “Pays to have connections, particularly when those connections have money,” a deep voice interjected. From behind one of the dividers, James stepped into the open. His handsome face offered me a tentative smile, his silver eyes apprehensive.

  “How are you James?” I asked Kenly’s boyfriend. To my surprise, James opened his arms for a hug. I obliged him.

  “Doing well, thanks to you.” James stepped back and looked me over. “How are you? We’ve been worried.”

  I waved off the comment. “I’m good. Swear. Though it is nice to be off Vault.”

  “I’ll bet. That was some escape you pulled. How’d you manage to make it to London?” James asked.

  “It’s a long story. These two,” I gestured to Emma and Kip, “had a lot to do with the second leg of my trip.”

  During our brief exchange, James had visibly relaxed. But when his silver gaze found the two imports, his expression turned anxious again. Taking several steps towards the newcomers, he extended his hand to Emma first. “James Wellington.”

  Smiling shyly, Emma returned the handshake. “Emma Montague. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “You, too.” Releasing Emma’s hand, James turned his attention to Kip and repeated the introduction.

  “Vester Ozolos, but you can call me Kip,” the islander replied.

  Beside me, Kenly froze, the vibes emanating off of her a mix of fear and concern. I got the distinct impression that neither that fear nor that concern was over her own safety, or that of her bunker-mates. James and Riley exchanged pointed glances, and both boys’ expressions turned grim. Jaw set in a hard line, James rose his brows in question at Kenly.

  “What?” I demanded as the trio of Kenly, James, and Riley continued to send a myriad of silent signals back and forth.

  “Maybe I should tell you everything first,” Kenly said. “Or better yet, I’ll show you.”

  Kenly walked through the maze of dividers to a large open space at one end of the expansive room. The entire area was covered in monitors, each showing a different image from around the world. The volumes were all on low, but the voices I’d been hearing were coming from the screens.

  One long holo desk sat in the middle of the area, with several chairs situated behind it.

  “This is quite the setup you’ve got here,” I commented.

  “Yeah, well, the Chrome trade is lucrative,” James replied bitterly. “I’d love to see the looks on my parents’ faces when they learn their bunker, with all of its expensive techno gear and 1000-threadcout sheets, has been turned into a hideout for the very people they’ve been selling into slavery.” His laugh was derisive. “My grandparents are probably rolling over in their graves. Soulless gits.”

  Kenly rested a comforting hand on her boyfriend’s arm. The tension in James’s muscles lessened instantly under her touch. Ever the gentleman, James pulled out the center chair at the holo table for Kenly. With an appreciative smile that reminded me a lot of the way I’d seen Emma gazing at Kip, Kenly sat. But as soon as she turned to face the wall of monitors, her expression was all business.

  With three quick taps to the tabletop, a holo keyboard appeared. Kenly’s fingers flew across the keys at lightning speed, muting the volume on all of the monitors simultaneously. Then, on the center screen, which was larger than the rest, a computer desktop with hundreds of file folders appeared
.

  “You might want to sit,” James suggested, indicating the other chairs at the desk.

  Emma, Kip, and I sat.

  “Probably you should start at the beginning, Kenly,” Riley said, perching on the far left side of the table.

  James stood behind Kenly, gently rubbing her shoulders as she worked.

  “Right. The beginning.” Absently, Kenly tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and cracked her knuckles. “So, I infiltrated UNITED’s digital system,” she announced without preamble.

  “I heard, and I am impressed,” I said with a proud grin.

  Kenly blushed. “It wasn’t that hard. Anyway, I’ve installed a bunch of programs for a bunch of different reasons. One is an alert for mentions of you.” She gestured towards me.

  “Riley told us,” I replied.

  “Oh, he did? Did he tell you what I found?”

  “Only the basics,” Riley chimed in helpfully. “I thought it best you tell her about Nightshade.”

  My insides began to squirm. I’d never heard of Nightshade, but just the way Riley said the name gave me goosebumps.

  “Okay, so there is the mercenary organization called Nightshade,” Kenly began. “Have you heard of them?”

  I shook my head.

  “I have,” Emma piped up, surprising everyone including Kip. She shrugged and explained, “My dad’s had dealings with them.”

  Cue more pointed glances between Kenly, Riley, and James.

  The mushy feeling in my stomach intensified. NS—that had been the signature on the fax Jeb received my last night on Pelia. I’d assumed that NS was a person. But what if the initials stood for Nightshade?

  “What sort of dealings?” Kenly asked Emma cautiously.

  “I don’t really know. I’ve just heard him mention them before, like when he’s talking to some of the other elders in our tribe,” Emma replied nervously, obviously having picked up on the atmosphere change.

  “Emma,” I began slowly, “is it possible the NS from that fax was Nightshade?”