by Nina Berry
He croaked at us, then landed on the roof of the lab. We halted in front of that building’s door. I could hear the pain in every breath Lazar took. His good hand held his broken arm gingerly at the elbow.
I said, “If you see a girl who looks like Lazar in there, don’t hurt her. Get her out of the building. And try to keep Ximon alive. I have questions for him.”
“The fuel barrels are right there.” Caleb tilted his head to the right. Siku swung his big head to look. Sure enough, a dozen large oil drums lay stacked to the side of the lab building. “Once everyone’s out, I’ll light them up.”
“Ready?” I hoisted my air gun. Siku grunted, November cheeped, London gave me a nod, and Arnaldo squawked.
“Ready, General Desdemona,” said Caleb, grinning at me. A few locks of dark hair had fallen over his forehead, and his black eyes glinted with those hints of gold, sharp and ready in the moonlight. Every channel in my body was open, every nerve alight. We just might pull this off.
“Look how far we’ve come,” I said. “Let’s finish it.” Around me, I felt muscles tense. “Open the door, Lazar.”
Caleb pushed him forward, and Lazar put his hand on the doorknob. I angled my gun to fire through the door as it cracked open. Moonlight revealed a small room with a reception desk, three waiting chairs, a door to the right, and a door straight ahead. Nothing moved inside.
Siku went in first and ran straight at the door. At the last second, he ducked his head and slammed into it with his shoulder. The walls trembled, and the door buckled but did not open. Siku shuffled backward, huffing his breath in and out indignantly, as if the door had dissed him. Then he smashed into it again at top speed.
It flew open, banging into the wall behind. Siku’s momentum rolled him forward through the doorway. Caleb hustled Lazar over, pistol at the back of his head, and I caught a glimpse of November’s tiny, pod-shaped body scurrying past Siku into the darkness.
A hallway stretched about twenty-five feet down, with a door on each side. November darted down it, paused, sniffing, then pointed one pink paw at the door on the right and squeaked.
“Ximon’s in there,” I said.
Caleb pushed Lazar into the hallway as Siku got to his feet. “Siku, the door on the right.”
As Siku moved up to obey, I drew the Shadow Blade and walked to the door on the left. “Here, ’Ember. Do reconnaissance.” I slid the dusky blade between the door and the wall, feeling the wood resist it on either side. But as I cut down near the lock, it bit through the metal there. No lockpicks necessary. I pulled it open just wide enough for November to slip through. I had time only to get the impression of a large, utterly dark room, filled with tables and empty cages.
Then Siku huffed and bashed the other door with one huge paw. It sprang open. I sheathed the blade and hoisted my gun. London trotted in to stand beside me, her teeth bared.
Light radiated from the room. As my eyes adjusted I saw a small battery-operated lamp next to a hospital bed surrounded by people. London shoved me sideways, and a bullet whined past my ear.
“Thanks,” I said breathlessly, spotting the man in white who had fired. I raised my air gun and fired at him. The first dart went wide, of course, but I stepped closer, aiming for his chest, and finally buried a dart in his thigh. A lucky shot, at last. He fell.
At the same time, Caleb jammed his pistol into Lazar’s temple and shouted, “Guns down or he’s dead!”
Everyone froze. A white-haired man lay in the hospital bed. Ximon. His still-firm skin looked pasty under the tan, and an IV hung by his side, the tube disappearing into the crook of his elbow.
On the far side of the bed stood Amaris in a high-necked white gown, dark circles under her eyes, her skin blotchy with fatigue. Her wide brown eyes darted from one of us to the other, mouth half open in surprise. Beside her, one arm around her shoulders, stood a short, pot-bellied man with dull brown hair graying at the temples. His other arm pointed a silver pistol at us, his thin upper lip curled in anger. Amaris was leaning as far away from him as she could, and no wonder. He had to be Enoch, her husband.
The other person was another objurer toting a rifle. He had it trained on me, but he hesitated as Caleb jammed his own gun farther into Lazar’s ear. “Not feeling well, Ximon?”
Ximon raised his head. “It’s kind of you to visit, son.” Despite his pallor, his eyes glittered with shrewdness and feverish energy.
“It’s your fault, turncoat,” said Enoch in a nasal voice, his arm tightening around Amaris. “The lightning damaged his heart. Even your beautiful sister can’t heal him.”
“What a shame,” I said. “Let go of her.”
“She couldn’t heal me because her heart wasn’t in it,” said Ximon. A muscle in his cheek quivered. Amaris shot him a horrified look. But then Ximon’s eyebrows flattened over his narrowed eyes, calculating. “God has abandoned her, and He punishes me for failing to keep her unstained. Now you’ve come.”
“Perhaps it’s a sign,” said Caleb. “A sign for you to give up. Let her go, Enoch.”
“No!” Enoch’s arm tightened around Amaris’s shoulders, his jowls shaking.
Amaris opened her mouth, as if to say something, but her father said, “Enoch, point your gun at Amaris’s head.”
Enoch stared at Ximon in shock, but his gun hand obeyed as if it had a mind of its own. He pressed the muzzle of his gun against Amaris’s cheek, and she became very still. Caleb’s shoulders stiffened.
“It seems I have something you want,” Ximon said, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a smile.
“You wouldn’t kill your daughter,” said Caleb.
Ximon shook his head slightly, as if disappointed in him. “If she dies in this cause, she may make it to Heaven. If she goes with you, she’ll be damned forever.” His eyes slid over to me. “And I have something you want too, Amba. The location of your real parents.”
“I . . .” My throat went dry. Goose pimples crept up my arms, and every plan in my head, every stratagem, fled. He knows where my parents are. I forced myself to pull away from the deep allure in that sentence. Ximon could not be trusted. “I wouldn’t believe anything you told me.”
He sat up with a huff of effort, reached behind Amaris, and held up a black file folder. “Given how well you fought back at that so-called school of yours, I thought it might be a good idea to read your file again. We analyzed you from every angle and learned more than you could ever dream. But I chose not to include some crucial information. In fact, I am the only one in this world who knows the truth about your parents. They are both still alive.”
I felt hollowed out, like a sphere of blown glass that would shatter at a touch. If he hadn’t used the word “Amba,” I might’ve been able to ignore him. But Morfael had used the same term. Answers resided in Ximon’s head and in that file. If we killed him, I might never know the whole story. I stared at the file as he leaned over and placed it back on the table behind Amaris, out of sight.
Ximon’s voice deepened. “Kill me and you’ll never know it. Kill Lazar and Amaris will die. But you don’t really want to kill anyone, do you? Put down your guns.”
My head buzzed, and my arms lowered the rifle. It felt like the right thing to do. I needed to know the truth about my heritage. And killing was wrong. Right?
The objurer in front of the bed released his rifle. Enoch’s gun dropped onto the hospital bed. And Caleb’s fingers opened. His rifle clattered to the floor.
A bird shrieked. I looked up, dazed, to see Arnaldo flying down the hallway toward us, his wingtips brushing the walls. London growled, and I knew something had gone wrong. But what? One moment I’d been holding a gun and so had Caleb, and all parties were in a standoff. Now no one was armed, and Ximon was showing all his teeth in a smile.
“I forbid you entry to this world, shadowkind.” Ximon’s voice was strong and sonorous. Beside me, the outline of London’s wolf shape trembled, as did Siku’s bear.
Arnaldo tilted his wings, curved into
Ximon’s room, and opened his beak in a great cry. At the same moment, Ximon extended both hands toward us all and commanded, “Return to Othersphere!”
London stumbled on her two legs, human legs, and fell to her hands and knees, gasping. Siku shook the long, straight black hair falling down his broad, naked back and roared, but it was a human roar of frustration and fury.
But the great eagle remained. Arnaldo gave another ear-piercing call, as if daring Ximon to try it again. Then, talons extended, wings back, he fell upon the white-haired man.
Both Enoch and Amaris cried out. Foolishly, Enoch tried to get between the eagle and his leader. One of Arnaldo’s huge wings smacked him in the face. Blood poured from his nose. So he lunged for the gun he’d dropped on the bed.
But Amaris reached it first. Her small hand gripped the stock firmly, and she swiveled around to try to point the gun at Enoch, but he tackled her. Amaris screamed. They fell behind the bed, out of sight. A moment later, Enoch’s gun skidded under the bed, along the floor, and out into the hallway.
Everything seemed to happen at once. Caleb yanked Lazar by his good arm, trying to move closer to Amaris. Lazar pushed his shoulder into Caleb hard. They sprawled in a heap.
London, all naked skinny arms and legs, whirled to the door November had gone through and dodged inside. She couldn’t shift again today, and without a weapon she was better off out of the line of fire.
Enoch rose from behind the bed, blood still streaming from his nostrils and down his chin. “Damn you, traitorous bitch!” he shouted at Amaris, and kicked her as she lay on the floor.
I grabbed for my air gun, but it clicked, empty. The unknown objurer was doing the same with his rifle. He sighted on me and fired. I dove for the floor, but something thumped into my upper arm, knocking me sideways. I put a hand on my arm, and the hand came away covered in blood. I stared at it, the truth not registering. I’d been shot.
Siku stood to his full height and shifted. The objurer swung his rifle toward him, so I threw myself at the man’s knees, my arm ablaze. He shouted in surprise and fell forward, on top of me. His weight jolted my wounded arm and pressed the Shadow Blade painfully against my waist, right where my bruises from the brace lay.
Amaris still lay on the floor, her mouth full of blood, as Enoch’s boot swung to kick her again. She deflected most of the blow with her arm, then tried to hold onto his leg. He rained curses down on her.
The objurer rolled off of me, trying to get his gun in a position to fire from where he lay. I jerked the Shadow Blade from its scabbard and slashed across the barrel. I felt only the slightest resistance as the blade sliced through the metal. The objurer was left gaping at the two pieces of rifle in his hands.
Back in the hallway, Lazar reached into his pocket and jabbed something into Caleb’s shoulder. A syringe. “Let’s see how it works on callers,” he said.
Caleb tried to grab Lazar as he shoved him away and stood up, but his movements were slow, his eyes unfocused. “Damn you,” he said, through gritted teeth, and managed to pull the syringe out of his arm. Half its contents remained.
Lazar didn’t take time to gloat, but turned and vaulted over his father’s bed. “Enoch. Deal with the bear!” he barked. Enoch stiffened, as if brought to attention, and swiveled from Amaris to grab something off the table where my file lay. Another syringe. Next to it lay three more and some other medical instruments.
I didn’t have time to see anything else as the objurer swiped at me with the severed barrel of his rifle. I deflected it, then grabbed it and tore it from his grasp. My hand burned from the silver, but I slammed it into his temple. He reeled but didn’t fall back, so I hit him again. He collapsed.
I sat up, ignoring the jolt of pain in my arm, and threw the rifle barrel at Enoch as he climbed over the bed. It flew wide as Lazar helped the frail Ximon to stand. Ximon ripped the IV from his arm and closed his fingers around my file. Lazar grabbed one of the remaining syringes, then hauled Amaris to her feet.
I lurched toward them, but Lazar, standing behind Amaris, looped his good arm around her neck and placed the tip of the syringe against Amaris’s throat. “The dosage is made for large shifters,” he said. “If I inject all of it, it will kill her.”
Amaris’s neck convulsed as she swallowed. Syringe poised to stab Siku, Enoch stood, transfixed at the sight of his bride in danger. Siku’s paw, lifted to swipe the syringe out of Enoch’s hand, was frozen in midair. His shiny dark eyes shifted from Amaris to the syringe and back. If he attacked Enoch, Lazar might kill her. I could see that Siku was torn. Amaris was no one to him, and a member of the Tribunal. But still Siku held himself back.
Caleb had managed to stand, clinging to the doorframe. He was shaking his head. “Leave her,” he said, his lips barely able to form the words. “Leave her and we won’t pursue you.”
“As if I could trust you,” Lazar said. Behind him, Ximon was backing up, holding the battery-powered lantern and my file. The shadows lurched around us like crazed monsters as the lamp swung. The room was larger than I’d thought, with two rows of four empty beds stretching away from us and a door set into the far wall. Lazar muscled Amaris back as Ximon unlocked the far door and opened it to the night.
Caleb tried to step forward but had to stop, keeping hold of the door to stay upright. I pushed past Ximon’s bed and picked up the two remaining syringes. The objurers who had invaded my house all those weeks ago had carried an antidote to the tranquilizer; maybe there was one here as well.
Sure enough, one of them looked just like the syringe Lazar had plunged into Caleb. But the other had one-tenth the liquid in it and was labeled “Anti-tranq.”
I leapt over the bed back to Caleb and stabbed the needle through his sleeve into his arm.
He inhaled, lifting his head, then nearly fell. I placed one of his arms around my shoulders to support him. I could feel the deep tremor in his body as he struggled back to full consciousness.
Standing in the doorway, Ximon held my file up so that the moonlight shone upon it. “You will never know the truth about yourself, Amba,” he said, his teeth white in the light from the lantern.
I said, “Would your God approve of you threatening your own daughter? Let her go.”
He surveyed me. “Now I see what truly motivates you. You’re filled with compassion. That is as it should be. You will lead your friends to death and see the destruction you bring to the world, and it will shatter that tender heart of yours. I’ll be there to see it break.”
He stepped through the door. I moved forward, bringing Caleb with me. “You could come with us too, Lazar,” I said. “You don’t have to follow your father. You can be your own man, a better man.”
Lazar frowned, as if not quite understanding. He was breathing in short, painful pants, fighting the pain in his arm after the scuffle. Even though he still held a syringe to Amaris’s throat, he looked like a small boy, a bit lost and in need of care.
Ximon laughed. “You see, son? Compassion. It will be her undoing. She does not understand your strength. You have more than proved yourself worthy to be my son and heir this day.”
Lazar took a deep breath and focused, his father’s words bolstering him. “Your words are meaningless to me, demon.” He eyes shifted to Caleb, who was awake enough now to stand on his own. Fury and helplessness were written in every line of his body.
“Good-bye, Caleb. I’ll be sure to make Amaris aware of the pain she has caused us every single day. And that she has you to thank for it.” He pressed the needle tip into Amaris’s skin. A spot of blood appeared on her neck. He hadn’t injected anything into her yet, but the threat was clear.
As we watched, Lazar gave one last little wave with the syringe. Then Ximon helped him pull Amaris through the far doorway and they disappeared from sight.
CHAPTER 26
Siku roared and slapped Enoch in the face with one enormous paw. The man dropped like a wet sack, unconscious.
“Hey!” London grabbed my arm, snappi
ng me out of a horrified daze. She had thrown on a white lab coat and looked like a naughty goth scientist with her bare legs and feet peeking out. “Time to burn this place down.”
“Okay,” I said, although my head felt like it might float off my body. “Let’s go.”
Caleb was holding my hand. “Your arm’s bleeding,” he said.
“It won’t kill me,” I said. “Get out there. Get her back.”
His eyes flicked up to me, very dark and uncertain. “I don’t want . . .” He stopped himself.
“What is it?” I searched his face.
He ran one hand up my good arm and slid the other around the back of my neck, under my hair, pulling me closer. My breathing quickened as the warmth of his body encircled me. “I don’t want us to separate, but I have to go.”
“I know,” I said. “It’s okay.” The skin of his throat was sunbrowned and smooth. One corner of his shirt collar curled up.
“It might not be.” His voice carried an edge of fear. I opened my mouth to ask him what was wrong, but then he said, “Whatever happens, know that I love you.”
His eyes were black pools and they were swallowing me up. My heart expanded to fill my entire body. He bent his head and kissed me, his arms tightening and crushing me into him. I slid my hand under his coat and kissed him back.
Then he released me. I couldn’t speak. Caleb smiled, a sweet, slow smile I’d never seen from him before, tinged somehow with regret. Then he ran off down the hall. I stared after his fluttering black coat, my brain swirling and frozen at the same time.
“What . . .” I didn’t even know who I was talking to. He had said them, the words I hadn’t let myself think he’d ever say. But he’d looked so melancholy. Somehow I felt it was more than losing Amaris just now. Something worse.
“Come on, lover girl.” London grabbed a roll of gauze and wound it around the hole in my upper arm. The pressure made me dizzy, but I couldn’t afford to lose any more blood, and I couldn’t shift to heal myself. It didn’t seem to matter anyway.
