I’d dreamed about Natalya skulking around the National Museum in Prague two months ago. Or more specifically, I’d scried into one of Natalya’s memories in my sleep. There, she’d left a message for Belle in a secret room, but the dream had abruptly ended the minute she’d heard someone behind her. I could still remember her fear and shock. I thought perhaps it was an Informer, one of the specialized agents that shadow Effigies and bring information back to the Sect. And now I knew that it was Rhys who’d followed her.
Rhys . . . I thought of the blood dripping from his mouth and the light dying from his dark eyes. It wasn’t real, just Natalya’s memories and my dreams blending too seamlessly together while Dr. Rachadi messed around in my head.
Or maybe Natalya’s consciousness was becoming too strong.
You don’t believe me . . . because of your crush?
I squeezed my eyes shut. Two months ago, when I’d brought up Natalya’s trip to the museum with Rhys, he’d been uncomfortable with my even pursuing the subject. And that was before the night I’d faced Saul in France, when Natalya had finally shown me the scene of her death in full: her poisoning at Rhys’s hand.
A dull pain began throbbing in my chest as I considered it. I couldn’t recall every detail of the dream, but I did remember Natalya’s heart calming upon seeing his boyish smile because that’s how I’d always felt. His honey sweetness underlined by the dark charm of a warrior raised from youth for battle. I hadn’t seen him since he’d gone back home some weeks ago. In the short time I’d known him, I’d attached myself to his kindness, caving in to my own attraction. But like Natalya, I hadn’t realized just how little I knew about him.
Until it was too late.
Rhys killed Natalya. Or did he? Natalya was desperate to live again, and the only way she could do that was to destabilize my mind while I was most vulnerable—when I was scrying into her memories. Then she could slip into my body. It worked the last time in France. All she had to do was show me Rhys killing her. A lie. The perfect scheme. Or the truth.
It was why I hadn’t told anyone about it. Not even Belle. I just didn’t know.
And now I couldn’t even trust my own mind. I covered my eyes with a shaking palm. What if she got me one day? What would I do then, trapped helplessly in my body? I tried to stop them, because I knew I had to pull myself together and be strong, but a few tears leaked out anyway, slipping through my fingers and trickling down to my ears. Sometimes it was too much.
“Don’t cry, Maia.”
My eyes shuddered open at the feel of his whisper grazing the skin of my ear, his hand on the side of my face. A tender touch. He’d sat down on the bed so quickly, so quietly. My whole body burned from his closeness.
No.
“You’ve been looking for me,” Saul said. “But I’m here now.”
I had already launched at him before the scythe had fully formed in my hand, flames erupting around my body. He moved off the bed with several steps back, quick and careful, side-stepping my first swing. The blade of the scythe lodged into the wall.
I had to calm down. Calm down and capture him. This was my chance.
Yanking the scythe out of the wall, I swung again. Saul could have disappeared just as easily as he’d appeared. Yet he didn’t. A shadow cast from his wide plum hood covered the top portion of his face, but not the upward turn of his full lips. His robes fluttered from the impact of my blade against his hand—a metal hand. Silver and shining, its thin fingers connected by bulbous joints that whirred noisily as he held my weapon in place.
“I thought I cut that off. Where’d you get a replacement?” I asked coolly, trying to break through his grip with my strength alone, but Saul was strong too. “Couldn’t have been while you were hiding out in Greenland.”
He stood perfectly upright, shaking just a bit under the weight of my attack when he answered. “So you’ve been tracking me since we last spoke.” And he began squeezing the blade so tightly I thought it would break. “You remember, don’t you? What you did to me then?”
“I remember what you did.” The bodies of innocent people strewn about the La Charte hotel lobby. The train passengers screaming as they were torn apart by phantoms. “I remember.”
I let go of my scythe, banishing it quickly before kicking him back and summoning it again in another whirl of flames that licked the curtains—but all I could see was him. Saul. I had to capture him. Jumping at him, I brought it down, only to have him dodge. The blade plunged into the floor. “How did you even find me?” I demanded, yanking it back out.
“I heard you were here and thought I’d stop by.”
“Heard? From who? Only . . .” My breath hitched. Only the Sect knew we were here.
“Aren’t you happy to see me?”
There was a whimsical note in his voice that made me think of Alice, but the sociopathic, dead Effigy in his line wouldn’t have been this calm in the heat of battle.
“Nick. Is that who I’m talking to? Is it?”
“I’m sure you can tell. Though, strangely,” Saul said, his voice a breath, “it doesn’t seem to matter much these days.”
The two personalities were constantly warring, battling for control over Nick’s body. I knew what it felt like. But I had no sympathy for Nick, no matter how human he tried to make himself appear. Neither was to be trusted. He just so much as said it himself.
One strike. Two. He dodged well, grabbing my wrist with his metal hand and squeezing it tight.
“Relax, Maia. Don’t you notice?”
Releasing me, he shoved me back, not too hard, perhaps, because Nick was still trying to pretend to be a gentleman. But when he pointed to the bed, I finally noticed—the flames were eating at the gray covers, licking the walls. And for a moment, I was paralyzed. For a moment, all I could see was my house in Buffalo up in flames, the bodies of my family being carted out in bags. Mom. Dad. My twin sister, June . . .
No. I could handle this. I’d been training for two months for this. I could handle this. But the scythe had already vanished into the air, my hands trembling as I watched the fire spread.
“Banish the flames, Maia. Go on. Don’t be afraid.”
Saul was too close to me. I could feel his hard body against the dark curls spilling down my back, his chest a breath away from my head. If he wanted to kill me, he could have done it already. I had to concentrate. This time I would do it.
I breathed and raised my arms. It was like the reverse of trapping and releasing. I drew the energy back inside my body, like depriving the flames of oxygen. Releasing a deep, shuddering breath, I collapsed back—into Saul’s arms.
I stayed crumpled in them, too shocked to move at first, even with my brain screaming at my muscles.
“Good. Good.” Saul’s heavenly face beamed down at me, his sea-blue eyes glinting in the moonlight. “The better control you have over your powers, the easier it will be for you to find Marian.”
A sudden spurt of adrenaline shot through my limbs. He didn’t just have the power to disappear. He could take me with him if he wanted. Like last time.
I pushed myself out of his arms, but Saul grabbed my wrist before I could back away. “I’m not here to hurt you. I can’t take you yet. I have too much to do before then. You can rest easy for now.”
“Yet,” I spat. “So you’re still after me.”
“It’s not me you’ll have to worry about, Maia,” he said, sliding down his hood so I could see the long, loose silver hair that had been dark in the picture Director Chafik had shown us. “Truthfully, I was in an awful state after you hurt me in France,” he said. So Sibyl’s theory was right after all. “But I did gain control of myself. Control. Focus.”
His gaze wavered strangely, but for just a moment. Or did I imagine it?
“Right now there are other things I have to take care of before we can see each other again,” he continued as steady as ever.
“What do you mean?” A hard rhythm pounded against my chest.
“
Alice and I are going to achieve what we’ve set out to for many years. Decades.”
He sounded as eerily calm as the night I’d faced him in France. It’d frightened me more than Alice’s murderous frenzy.
“I told you before. We both have a wish to grant. With Marian’s help, we’re going to reshape the world.”
With his hood down, I could see his face in full, long and slender, beautiful with its high angles and sharp edges. The smile playing on his lips was gentle, unassuming—Nick’s smile. But I knew better than to trust it.
“This is a world of shadows, Maia,” he told me, leaning so his silver hair fluttered over his shoulders. “And the secrets hide themselves there in the dark. You’ll understand that soon enough. I’ll give you a sign.” His breath was hot on my skin as he spoke, his melodic voice dancing in the heavy, spiced air. “You won’t miss it.”
Then he walked backward a few steps before disappearing, leaving me alone in the dark room.
6
WE WERE TO REPORT TO Sibyl immediately. Between Saul reemerging suddenly in Morocco and the mysterious man we’d found instead of him at the desert hideout, there were already too many variables to sort out. Still, I had to be careful. Some things we couldn’t share with the Sect.
The Sect van took us from the streets of London down the phantom-proof highways to the facility. As I watched the dying evening sun through the window, I thought of Saul gripping me in his arms and shivered.
“Maia? Are you feeling better?” Lake asked for the thousandth time and leaned in from her seat beside me. The other girls hadn’t stopped looking at me sideways since we’d left Africa. “That scrying session was pretty intense. Then Saul shows up in your room.”
Chae Rin smacked the side of my head when I didn’t answer. “Hello? We’re asking you if you’re okay.”
Rubbing my head, I shot her a glare. “I’m fine. I’m still breathing, anyway.”
“What about the scrying?” Over the months, Lake had gotten comfortable enough with me to poke me in the arm, the cheek—it was annoying, but I didn’t tell her not to. “What did you see when you were in there?”
I noticed Belle’s head shift from the passenger seat.
“Not much,” I lied, stifling a sudden nervous thump in my chest. “What matters is that I am okay now.” I can’t tell you here, I wanted to say. Not with Sect agents around.
Natalya’s death had too many imprints on it. Saul. The Sect. And—
My hand twitched against the car window ledge. Forget him, I ordered myself. He wasn’t even here anymore. He’d gone back home. He was gone. He didn’t matter.
Rhys.
The sensation of his arms around my waist, his hand gripping the back of my head lingered even if it’d just been a dream. The blood dripping from his lips and the grin he’d given Natalya in the museum . . . No. With a slight jolt of my head, I shook his image away.
The Sect was what I had to focus on now. The Sect had lied about Natalya’s death. And even now, Saul knew where I was because he’d been told. Who else would know but the Sect?
How far did this go?
Until I was sure I could trust Sibyl, I couldn’t tell her about my visions of Natalya. There were some things I had to keep close to my chest.
And not just hidden from the Sect.
My eyes drifted to Belle’s reflection in the rearview mirror.
The Sect had several main divisions, one for each continent. The London facility was the headquarters of the European Division. Tucked away in Epping Forest, a few miles out from the city, its massive buildings and connected wings remained hidden in the evergreens. There were Sect facilities all over the world, but just a few of them had the resources and equipment necessary to house and train Effigies. After passing the first set of gates, the car took us along the winding path slotted between the trees. Peaceful.
“What the hell?” The driver’s exclamation snapped me out of my daze. He leaned over the steering wheel to see them better, but even from here, I heard the clamoring crowd outside the inner gates. A few moments later, their flashing camera phones and signs were fully visible.
I grabbed the back of Belle’s headrest. “I-is that a banner? With my name on it?”
Yes. Yes, it was. FIREFLIES 4 MAIA FINLEY, it read. “Fireflies,” of course, was the newly christened name of my personal fandom. Not that I minded, but I would have chosen something better.
Lord, not this again. Fans.
Fandom names never even used to be a thing. You had hard-core fans of certain Effigies, of course, but they weren’t that organized, besides Lake’s Swans, and that was a runoff from her pop music career. But the fandom trend had picked up fast once the four of us had gotten together. Along with Swans and Fireflies, you had Belle’s Icicles and Chae Rin’s High Wires. Of course, this was all encouraged by the Sect’s PR team. Supposedly, promoting fanatical devotion could only help keep the public on our side. But some of these fans were a little too devoted.
The gates opened. Security was already there to keep the crowd from entering the premises, but most of the fans didn’t even bother; they were swarming our van. A young women tapped a life-size toy replica of Natalya’s sword against Belle’s window, waving excitedly as if it wouldn’t piss her off. On the other side of the car, an overweight man held up one of Lake’s magazine covers. With a shaky hand, he reached underneath his glasses and rubbed his teary eyes. My stomach crawled with embarrassment as it always did when I saw crowds of people waiting for us at the facility, or at events. Is this what I looked like back then when I was running from event to event trying to get Belle to sign my shoes, my posters, whatever I could find? It was such a different view from the other side of the veil.
“Effigy nerds!” Chae Rin looked disgusted. “How the hell did they get inside the premises?”
A twinge of indignation made me glare at Chae Rin. Okay, yes, they were Effigy nerds. And it was weird and slightly bizarre, but the disdain was unnecessary.
I should have realized something was wrong when we didn’t see them crowding the streets outside the first set of gates, like they had done since our battle in France. But there usually weren’t this many people. I covered my eyes from the flashes until the sound of frantic rapping against my window gave me a start.
It was the girl holding the banner. Her long, straight chestnut hair parted in two braids running down both shoulders. She couldn’t have been more than thirteen. If her skin had been a little darker, she would have reminded me of June. Of myself.
She already did.
I pressed my hand against the window and leaned in closer, watching that pleading expression from behind the glass.
“This is crazy. Hey . . .” Chae Rin poked me. “Tell your people to get lost.”
“My people?”
“I don’t speak otaku.” She snapped her fingers. “Go on. Get to it.”
Again with the disdain. I glared at her before turning back to the window. What could I say? Especially to that young girl practically begging me to roll down my window. The desperation in her green eyes was too familiar. The tremor in her voice as she said my name. The pen and notebook in her shaking, outstretched hands. I knew it all too well.
In the front seat, Belle ignored the rabble, her eyes closed, her hand rubbing her forehead wearily. She didn’t see them. Why would she? She didn’t see me back when I’d waited for her outside Lincoln Center last Fashion Week, before I’d become an Effigy. She wouldn’t see them now.
But I did.
“Belle!” one fan said, only to be met with a deafening silence I remembered too clearly.
The same chill that I used to admire in Belle now spurred something rebellious in me. I started rolling down the window.
“What are you doing?” the driver barked as he watched me through his rearview mirror.
“Maia!” The poor girl was being crushed against my car door. “Maia!”
“Please get back.” I hadn’t rolled it too far down, but the girl
seized the opportunity. Quickly lowering her banner, she reached inside her pocket and shoved a pink envelope through the sliver of space. As it fell into my hand, I wanted to say something to her. Whatever words I’d wished Belle had said to me: Keep your head up, kid. There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re good just the way you are. You’re strong.
Words I still wish she’d say.
But before I could speak, the girl had already disappeared back into the rabble.
We finally got through the gates, only to be swarmed again as they closed behind us.
“Reporters.” Belle’s narrowed eyes reflected in the window.
Paparazzi would often find ways to ambush us in expected places. I’d already read about someone digging through the trash outside my New York apartment. But they weren’t supposed to be inside the gates.
As our van came to a stop, I clutched the letter in my hand. “What do we do?”
With one swift movement, Belle was out of the car. The vultures descended.
“Well,” the driver said, “you don’t exactly have a choice, do you?”
Lake had already been reapplying her lipstick. After fixing her black hair, twisted into a bun at the crown of her head, she tapped me on the shoulder. “Make sure to look above it all, but still kind of relatable, you know?”
After reaching into her tote bag and slipping on one of the three pairs of shades she always carried, she opened the door and fed herself to the ravenous crowd. With a heavy sigh, I slipped the girl’s letter into the front pocket of my hoodie and followed the others.
“Maia!”
“Maia Finley, do you have a minute?”
Sibyl would never allow reporters on the premises, and there was way too much security for them to just sneak in. Clearly they hadn’t. Now that the gates were closed against the fans outside, the security officers were just standing around watching us get utterly devoured by disorienting camera flashes.
Siege of Shadows Page 7
