Rather than risk the chance he might recognize me, I crash into his mind and plant a seed of persuasion. I’m no one. Turn around.
With a dismissive glare, he turns away. I eye the others from beneath my veil, scanning the courtyard. Everyone else remains distracted. Relief unwinds my shoulders, and I march up the front steps behind Alyssa.
When we arrive at the doors, she turns around to face me. “Wait here. I’ll draw them out.”
She disappears into the building, leaving me alone outside. I hug the wall and keep an eye on the people below me. In the distance, Evan sits in the motor vehicle. His legs peek out, the only part of him visible. The doors to the Legislature building fly open, obscuring me from view, and a group of men storm out. The horizontal “s,” with a dot above and below, marks their cheeks. Blockers. They march down the steps with poised confidence. If they succeed in quieting the mob, then my opportunity will vanish. And if they don’t, then they’ll most likely call the police. Either way, I don’t have much time.
When I glimpse into the building, I notice only a few people remain in the main foyer. Alyssa stands off to the side, conversing with them. Her hands rise and fall as she speaks. Their brows furrow and their mouths tighten, yet they don’t move an inch. When none of them leave, I inch forward. Hopefully, Alyssa can divert them long enough for me to cross the open space. My steps punctuate the air, a loud series of clanks reverberating up my spine. I keep my eyes on the floor as I shuffle forward, and the pounding of my heart drowns out their voices.
So close…
“You there! Stop!”
My feet freeze to the ground as fear slices up my spine. One of the men stomps toward me. A quick sweep of his mind informs me he doesn’t know who I am. But the hostility written on his face and hovering over him in an opaque black cloud tells me he has every intention of stopping me. A sigh of annoyance rushes from between my lips. But before I can enter his mind, Alyssa calls out behind him.
“Go!” She raises her hand in a dismissive gesture. “I’ll deal with him.”
I swivel on my heel and sprint down the hallway. His command for me to halt breaks off into silence, but I don’t dare look back. Several doors flash by, and I tick them off one by one until I arrive at Icarus’s office. Slipping my hand beneath my coat, I remove the revolver and grip the handle. With a quick flick, I pull the hammer back. Should I force my way in and hope the door isn’t locked?
I turn the knob, relieved when it gives way, and swing the door open, crashing it into the wall. With the revolver raised high, I shift my attention away from the empty seat behind the desk to the man standing by the window. Light spills into the room, highlighting his dark curls. He stares out at the courtyard, his arms folded across his chest. His clothes and hygiene mimic the best in society, as if he’d never spent time in prison.
Jonathan.
A veil of confusion falls over my eyes as I sweep my gaze across the room in search of Icarus. A foreign presence touches my mind, seeking control. I tense and pull the trigger. Too late. The bullet, sent off course by a simple command, lodges in the wall beside Jonathan. He rushes forward and yanks the weapon out of my grasp. The back of his hand connects with my face, and my jaw screams in agony as I fumble for balance.
He slams the door shut with a kick of his foot. “I must say it’s good to see you again, Moira. I was rather disappointed when Icarus locked you away in prison. I see he’s still trying to protect you, even if it’s from me. The fool. But for all his loyalty, here you are with every intention of murdering him. If only he’d wake up and see how far your betrayal runs.”
His words pierce through the ringing in my ears and fill me with confusion. He walks toward the desk and sits against the edge, holding the revolver in his lap. His arctic gaze sears through me, but I refuse to give into his intimidation. I test my jaw, moving it around and prodding the tender flesh with my fingers. Pain spikes from my cheek and shoots straight to my temple. I grit my teeth and clench my fists as fury sends molten lava across my landscape.
I rise to my full height and spit out my question. “Where is he?”
“Looking for you.”
“So what are you doing here? Are you going to send me back to prison?”
A short caustic laugh escapes him. “Oh no, I plan to get rid of you myself, finally. I still haven’t forgiven you for coming into my life in the first place. Then you had to tell Icarus about Scott. He wasn’t too happy to hear I acted against his orders, since he thinks of himself as the leader.”
Everything falls into place. I understand now why Jonathan has hated me all this time. He has despised me from the moment he’d met me all those years ago. All because Icarus had seen something in me, a concubine, and had chosen to invite me into their group. Jonathan has never seen me as an equal, a fellow empath worthy of their cause. To him, I’m only a whore—Icarus’s play thing. A distraction and a weakness, one that has ruined their plans.
He lifts his hand, the one holding the revolver, and points out the window. “I must admit your little scheme outside was amusing. If Icarus had been here, you might have succeeded.”
My body tenses at the sight of the weapon moving from side-to-side in his hand. His voice fades, a sound I no longer choose to hear. My lungs expand as I draw in a deep breath. After gathering my courage, I take the plunge, diving into his mental landscape. The air around me chills, and my breath leaks out in small clouds. I tug my coat closer to my chest. His laugh echoes, appearing from every corner of the cave. He doesn’t think I’m capable of defeating him. I kneel on the ground and place my hands on the ice. Cold pricks my skin and travels up my arms.
I ignore the sensation and plant a seed of persuasion. “Give me the revolver.”
The ice leeches the warmth from my body. I snap my hands back and wince at the red patches on my palms. Pain spreads as a thousand needles prick my skin. I wiggle my fingers and curl them against my palms. The ground trembles, and howl whips through the cavern. An icicle from above falls and splinters into a million pieces. Loose shards shoot outward, sliding across the slick ground. I glance up in time to see another fall, heading straight for me. Terror forces movement in my legs, and I dive and roll right into a rock. My back hits the jagged edge, and agony radiates up my spine. I groan and remind myself the ache is all in my head.
“Did you think you could use persuasion on me?” He pushes away from the desk and approaches. “You’re weak. Nothing but a whore.”
He smacks my face again, forcing me onto my hands and knees. Blood slips into my mouth, and my lip swells to an excruciating throb. The pain threatens to pull me out of his mind, but I hold on tight. Icarus’s office flashes in my vision, revealing Jonathan standing before me. He lifts his hand, aiming the revolver right at my chest, and his eyes shine with malicious intent. I blink, and the icy cavern of his mind closes around me. I’ve been called weak many times, and I even believed it once. But not anymore.
My hoarse voice fills the dark cavity. “You’re wrong.”
I plunge deep within myself. Hundreds of staircases zoom past, a flicker of steps before they vanish. The stone walls glisten as liquid oozes from the cracks. The bright red substance bubbles up, bleeding down the sides of the pit and pooling on the ground below. Pockets of air pop on the surface. I call the lava forth, drawing on every part of me. The concubine. The empath. The survivalist. The friend. The lover. The murderer. Labels that try to confine me, define me. But they aren’t me. It is I who is them and so much more. I gather her rage—our animosity—until her strength interlaces into my own. We’re one and the same, always have been. I only wish I would have known this sooner.
The hate, the pain, the regret—all of it rushes into me. And along with those emotions comes another as deadly as the others: my love for Keenan, Devin, and even Rick. Instead of weakening me, my affection for them only makes me stronger. I focus on my hatred for Jonathan. Images of the past whip by with the wind. Every glare and all the hurtful words he had ever
said flit past until one memory blazes across my landscape: the day he had persuaded me to kill Scott. The vision melts into the grass, swallowed up by the molten lava. The need to make him pay, to tear away his will and hurt him as he’s done to me, fuels my powers.
Weak, he says.
I think not.
I push my body into action and smack my hands on the ground. My lips curl upwards as the lava from within surges forth, pouring out from my hands and spilling onto his landscape. A single word carves into my tongue, unspoken. Pain. The volatile liquid slides across the cave and melts everything it touches. An agonized howl yanks me out of his mind. He drops to the floor, and the revolver slips from his grasp. His hands spring up to clutch the sides of his head. Shock threatens to immobilize me as I scramble to understand what I had just done. I leap forward, reaching for the weapon, but he swipes it away. The revolver slides across the floor and stops at the foot of Icarus’s desk.
A hand grasps my neck, forcing the air from my lungs. The pressure inside my head increases as his fingers dig into my throat. A gasp leaves my lips as I fumble my way back into his mind. My feet emerge an inch away from a puddle of lava, and I shuffle backwards, slipping on the slick ice. As I fall, I stumble out of his landscape. In the office, the door crashes against the wall, causing him to loosen his hold.
He releases me, and his voice sends a shudder through me.
“Stop!”
But his command is directed at another. I open my eyes and look at the man standing in the doorway. Keenan’s revolver shifts away from Jonathan and lands on me. I stare down the length of the barrel before lifting my gaze to a pair of green eyes. His brows pull together, and a bead of sweat trickles down his temple. My heart stutters as realization dawns on me. Jonathan’s intention roars in my head, so I dive into Keenan’s mind. The usual rhythmic melody of the clock increases in volume and speed, matching the frantic beat of my pulse. Steam billows up, clouding my vision.
Jonathan moves away from me, rising to his feet. “Kill her.”
Red letters singe the surface of a gear, burning until they transform into a bright orange. Panic spurs me forward and threatens to rip a shriek from my throat. I plant my hands on the metal, ignoring the sting of scorched flesh. Jonathan’s command resounds in Keenan’s mind. Even the clock ticks to the sound of those two words. Kill her. The heat chars my palms and radiates up my arms.
Perspiration pools at the dip of my spine as I force all of my will onto Keenan and bury a persuasion to cancel Jonathan’s. Don’t listen to Jonathan. You can’t kill me. You won’t.
His hand trembles, and his jaw tenses. He wavers. The fact he hesitates at all means I have a chance. Hope blooms, erasing the sting of desperation. The command beneath my palms dulls and mutates as my words take form over them. The gears slacken their rhythmic pace, and awareness flashes in the depths of Keenan’s eyes.
Jonathan’s voice blasts through the landscape. “Kill her!”
The words beneath my palm flare brighter.
A scream tears from my throat, but I don’t dare remove my hands. Don’t shoot, Keenan. I love you. Please, don’t shoot!
Keenan closes his eyes. “I love you, too.”
The sound of the bullet ricochets, forcing me out of his mind. Blood rushes to my head, yet nothing hurts. I run my hands over my body. Nothing. My head snaps up, and I glance behind me. A small hole mars the wall. A few inches to the right and he would have shot me dead. Tears of relief sting in the back of my eyes as I turn to meet his gaze.
Movement to my left draws my attention away. Jonathan picks up the revolver from the floor and lifts it to my face. Before I have time to react, another bullet release splits through the air. His knees buckle, and he falls to the floor. The revolver slips out of his grasp. A bright red spot appears on his white shirt, blossoming into a larger stain. Confusion and shock settle in, forcing my brows up. My gaze darts to the man standing behind Keenan.
Rick lowers his weapon and approaches Jonathan’s limp form. He bends, picks up the revolver, and hands it to Keenan.
Keenan places the weapon back into the holster beneath his coat. “Thank you, Jamieson.”
“No problem, sir.” He turns to me and assesses my body. “Is everyone alright?”
My voice leaves me in a faint whisper. “I think so.”
Keenan’s stern gaze cuts through me. “I told you not to do anything rash. And what do you do? You steal my revolver and attempt to assassinate the Chief Elite Member.”
The shock holding my body rigid melts, giving way to aggravation.
I fold my arms across my chest. “I had my reasons.”
“Ones you’ll inform me about later.” A muscle in his jaw spasms. “Right now, you need to get out of here. The police are out in the courtyard, but soon, some of the other constables will join us. They can’t see you here.”
My surprise is cut short when he seizes my arm and ushers me out the door. Beneath me, my feet rush to catch up.
A hundred questions flutter across my mind, but I only dare to ask one. “What will you tell them?”
“Not the truth.” He looks at me and lowers his voice. “Come to the townhouse tonight. We need to discuss things, and you can’t keep running away.”
I pause, a fib forming on my tongue. His annoyance sparks in the air between us, and his eyes narrow into two slits.
“Moira, I’m serious.” He waits and lets the severity of his tone sink in before continuing. “I better see you tonight.”
I swallow the lie and nod. “I promise.”
My eyes shift to Jonathan’s prone form. He stares blankly up at the ceiling, and his mouth remains partly open. A large circle of blood stains the front of his shirt and pools onto the hardwood floor. Relief spreads through me, but the feeling withers with the remembrance of why I had come here. One enemy is eliminated, yet another remains. And where is Daniel?
Keenan leaves my side and steps back into the office. I tear my gaze away and head toward the building’s entrance. As I walk down the hall with my head low, a few constables rush past. They clutch their revolvers, poised for any potential danger. What they don’t know is that their threat strolls by them, unnoticed beneath the lace of a hat.
One of the constables regards me, and his voice sends a ripple of unease through me.
“Miss, you shouldn’t be here.”
I give him a demure nod and scurry down the hall. Elite members and blockers crowd the foyer. Their fear weaves a dark cloud in between their bodies, the combination forming a thick barrier. My gaze roams over the throng of dazed individuals, seeking Alyssa’s familiar face. Someone bumps into me from behind, and they grab my arm to steady themselves. My lips curve into a dismissive, yet polite smile. I try to turn away, but the man continues to hold onto me. His cologne wraps around me, a thick fog of odour clawing its way into my lungs.
I cover my gag with a cough and slip a seed of persuasion into his mind. Let go of me. I’m no one familiar.
He releases me, and the mystification on his face fades. He turns and wipes his hand on the bottom of his coat. I scurry away from him and continue my search. A few gentlemen move, allowing me to pass. As soon as I’m out, someone grabs hold of me. I swivel around, my mind poised for an attack. But the sight of Alyssa’s face unwinds the tension from my shoulders.
She lowers her voice into a soft whisper. “There you are. What happened?”
“I’ll tell you later.” I grip her hand and pull her down the steps. “First, we need to leave.”
We rush through the courtyard, weaving past the statues and citizens. No one fights with the other. Instead, several constables hold the men at bay. A few sit on the ground, their wrists handcuffed behind their backs. None of them notice as Alyssa and I hurry past them. Her motor vehicle remains by the side of the road, exactly where we had left it.
When we near, I search the empty carriage. “Where’s Evan?”
“I don’t know.” She shakes her head and explores around us
. “He was to wait here for us. You don’t think he left, do you? Once he saw the police?”
“Perhaps.”
I climb into my seat, yet my stomach sinks at the thought of Evan. He wouldn’t leave and walk the streets alone. If anyone were to see him, they’d arrest him for prowling outside the Dream House without an attendant. He wouldn’t risk that.
She pulls away from the curb and drives up Churchill Road toward her estate. As silence descends, my gaze roams over the citizens wandering in front of the shops. Unfamiliar faces flash before me, and the dread inside blossoms from its seed. What if Evan never left the vehicle intentionally?
What if he had been arrested?
My foot bounces with excess energy. After the attack on the police station, I had told the Chief and Keenan my thoughts. They would have remarked the similarities and looked for a dream weaver. Fear quickens my pulse. What have I done? I had asked him to help, jeopardizing his life. Because of me, he might be sent to his death.
Alyssa’s voice jars me from my thoughts. “Tell me what happened. Did you kill Icarus?”
“No, he wasn’t there.” I force my leg to remain still. “Jonathan was, but he’s dead now.”
She flicks her gaze in my direction before focusing back on the road. “Good. I never liked the bastard.”
Though her mind churns with questions, she doesn’t ask them. But I can hear them, because they’re the same thoughts echoing in my head.
Where is Icarus?
13
Darkness envelops the road, except for the areas lit by the streetlamps. A faint streak of rain falls to the ground. I stick my hand out, beyond the cover of the canopy, and test the drizzle. Water droplets splash onto my palm. My gaze shifts to the side where the detective’s townhouse waits. A light illuminates the front steps. No one stands guard, not even in the shadows. The only mind I sense is Alyssa’s. She fidgets, anxious to return to her estate.
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