Siege of Shadows

by Sarah Raughley

  Listen? What did he mean? Was he reaching out to me? He sounded painfully sincere, reasoning with me to side with his team of psychopaths and murderers. No way. He was crazy.

  “You think I’m just going to do what you people say?” My jaw was stiff as I said it, my teeth nearly grinding together. “Anyway, if Saul wants me, he can just pop in and take me whenever he wants, right?”

  The thought chilled my blood as I suddenly realized it. I wasn’t safe anywhere.

  “He won’t, no. That isn’t the plan. There’s timing to everything. When the time comes, you’ll go with us yourself.” Vasily rubbed the blood trickling down his hand between his fingers. “Maia, would it really be that bad if you left the Sect?” He shook his head. “Or have you gotten used to your prison? If so . . .” His eyes narrowed. “Then I truly pity you.”

  He was dead serious.

  “That’s enough. We’re not getting anywhere.” Brendan had finally realized it. “Maia, we’re leaving. And you.” He glared at Vasily. “We’ll see if you’re ready to tell us more in a few hours. Brighton.”

  The Surgeon began to stir from his place by the back wall. That was my cue. Life sprang to my legs, and I followed Brendan out of the room. The door shut against the sound of a drill whirring, but it was the crash of bone and flesh against concrete that stole my attention.

  Rhys had just thrown Brendan to the floor.

  “What were you thinking, Bren?” Bending over him, Rhys picked him up by the collar. “Was that an interrogation? Was that your plan? Are you satisfied with that?”

  “Rhys!” I grabbed his arm from behind. “Stop!”

  But Brendan wasn’t even struggling. His glasses were askew on his nose as he looked at his little brother. All the pompous pretense and pride crumbled to pieces as his bottom lip began to tremble. “Aidan . . . don’t . . .”

  Cry. I could hear it before I saw the tears streaming down Rhys’s cheeks. He turned from me quickly, but I didn’t need to see his face. His whole body shook as he muffled his whimpering voice behind his one good hand.

  I moved closer to him, pressing my hand gingerly against his face and pulling his head toward mine so he could see me, but he shook me off with a jerk of his head. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry, Maia. I can’t.”

  And he turned to me, his beautiful features streaked wet. He trembled helplessly. “They weren’t lies. I’m sorry. I . . . I wish you’d never met me.”

  15

  I WISH YOU’D NEVER MET me.

  “Stop hesitating!” Chae Rin barked as her bō staff came for my head.

  I hadn’t even realized that I’d stopped moving. It was for a split second, but apparently that was enough for a hit to land. It wasn’t Chae Rin’s staff, though, but Belle’s that swept me off my feet from behind. My own staff slipped out of my hands as my back hit the mat hard.

  The morning sun filtered through the high windows of the training gym. We’d been training for hours; it was already a little past breakfast time, and yet I felt as if I were barely awake and functioning. I usually performed better than this during training. Once, I’d even earned an approving nod from Belle, who usually doled out her compliments with all the generosity of a miser.

  Today, I was sluggish, falling to easy attacks. I was also careless, though having to block both Belle and Chae Rin at the same time wasn’t exactly a walk in the park.

  Harder still if your mind was elsewhere.

  “You need to concentrate.” Chae Rin stuck out a hand to help me up, but the moment I touched her fingers and began to pull myself off the ground, she snapped hers away, letting me fall back down. “And stop letting your guard down,” she added, using her staff to hit my leg.

  Belle nudged my head with her staff and flicked her chin up. “On your feet.”

  I got up, my bones burning as I picked my staff off the ground. The white bandages around my left arm, the ones I tied there to sop up the blood after one of Chae Rin’s attacks, were starting to come unfurled. Lake probably wasn’t having an easier time, having to climb the thick rope set up a few feet away from us all the way to the very high ceiling. She was halfway up, but I could hear her whimpering from down here as she climbed, inch by painful inch.

  “What’s wrong?” Chae Rin tapped her staff against the floor, forcing a flinch out of me. “You’re distracted. What’s going on in there?”

  “Is it Natalya?” Belle suddenly launched an attack, twisting around to sweep me off my feet again. I jumped, dodging it this time, turning quickly to block Chae Rin’s staff. The loud crack of wood against wood reverberated against the ceiling.

  “No,” I grunted, blocking Belle’s next attack while leaning back to dodge Chae Rin. “This steel thingy is keeping the voices under control in there.”

  The neck-band was still around my neck like a dog collar. The back of my neck kept chafing from Mellie’s stupid injection, and it was all I could do to keep my fingers from scratching the itch at the base of my neck, but it was doing its job.

  “If that’s the case, then maybe we should try scrying again.” Belle lowered her staff. “We don’t know when Saul will attack next. We have to get ahead of him. But with the existence of those soldiers and more rogues potentially within the Sect, the issue’s getting more complicated. Last night, I tried searching the flash drive Philip gave us, but it’s encrypted. Natalya might have an idea of what Saul’s plan is.”

  “If she’d even tell me,” I said, touching my neck. “She seems more interested in playing games—‘Find the Keys to Maia’s Body,’ for one.”

  I caught myself. Belle couldn’t help letting the displeasure show on her face whenever someone—anyone—said something negative about Natalya. It was understandable. Nobody would be cool with hearing someone crap on their hero. Even if there was a grain of truth to the smack.

  Or a silo.

  But truth and lies were dangerous, messy constructs, especially when they concerned Natalya. Even if this steel albatross around my neck stopped her from bleeding too heavily into my subconscious, I doubted it could keep her from leading me in the wrong direction.

  “Look, I’m not crazy about having to go back in there, but since I’m your two-way radio, there’s nothing I can really do about it,” I said. “But, Belle, you’ll have to help me.”

  Belle was about as easy to read as the Rosetta Stone. She said nothing as she stared back at me calmly, and I wondered, as I always did, which one of us she saw—the protégé or the mentor? But to her credit, over the past few weeks, Belle had legitimately tried to help me learn to scry properly, safely. She led our training, preparing us for the battles to come.

  She was making an effort for us. For the team.

  But when it came to scrying, the breathing techniques that worked for her didn’t necessarily work for me. Belle was naturally calm; of course the process was easier for her.

  “Scrying still isn’t easy for me.” I rubbed my chest as I remembered the way Natalya’s mind had spread across mine like a virus, filling my body like too much air in a balloon. If I could get away with it, I’d never try to contact her again.

  Belle thought for a moment. “There is a place we could go to.”

  “A place?”

  “Here in London. They might be able to help with the process.”

  Suddenly, Chae Rin’s staff hit my back, sending me flying to the floor.

  “Hey!” I spat, flipping onto my back to see her standing over me.

  “You’re right; you should talk to Natalya again. Also, like I said.” She set the staff against her shoulder. “Never let your guard down.”

  The double doors opened, the loud creak reverberating through the gym.

  “Oh great, it’s that guy.” Chae Rin rolled her eyes as Brendan walked through the doors. He had the same prim suit on, though he’d changed his tie to match his new dress shirt.

  “Good morning, girls. Good to see you keeping yourselves fighting ready.”

  I grimaced at the chees
iness, but Brendan didn’t seem to notice. He kept his hands behind his back while he strolled toward us with a good-natured smile. There weren’t any signs of last night’s vulnerability, no sign of the boy whose eyes had welled up at the sight of his little brother crying in front of him.

  “Usually I wouldn’t come down here myself,” Brendan started.

  “Look at that, we’re so blessed.” Chae Rin turned from him. “God, I miss Sibyl,” she added as she twisted her staff around and began to practice on her own.

  Brendan coughed. “What I mean is, I’m here because I’d like to ask you something.”

  “What’s up?” Lake grunted a bit as she let go of the rope and let herself drop from that great height, landing on the ground with a puff of air that blew up her training shorts. “Oh, no. Saul didn’t do anything, did he?” Scurrying up to him, she grabbed him by the arm. “Was there an attack? Do we have to fight? We don’t have to fight, do we?” She tugged at him childishly. “Please, please, no. I need a break. See? My skin is horrid, my eyes are sunken—it’s all the stress.”

  Lake was starting to break out on her forehead, something I’d previously thought impossible with all the expensive skin-care products (one of which she endorsed) that she kept in our shared bathroom. But Brendan wasn’t looking at her forehead. He was looking at her gorgeous face. That is, before his eyes, for a shameful second, slid down to the T-shirt tied around her stomach.

  “Uh, excuse me.” I leaned over and snapped my fingers.

  Brendan jumped out of Lake’s grip so quickly his glasses slid down his nose. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Victoria—uh, everyone—no, Saul hasn’t attacked.” He gulped and inched away from her. Another fanboy. Perfect. “There’s something I need to ask one of you to do.”

  “Get to it.” Belle folded her arms as Lake went to pick up her water bottle by the side of the wall.

  Brendan twitched under the pressure of Belle’s intensity, but he kept his composure nonetheless. Impressive. “Blackwell is holding a black-tie fund-raiser this Thursday. Very exclusive. Nothing but the political elite.”

  “That’s in three days,” I said.

  “What’s he playing at, Blackwell?” Lake plucked off the cap of her water bottle. “I get that he’s the Council representative, but that stunt he pulled with the press was sketchy. Whether or not someone from the facility gave him false information like he said, don’t you think he’s creepy enough to warrant an interview?”

  “Believe me, I’ve done so,” Brendan said. “He’s been interviewed thoroughly, along with the other agents in the facility. The process is clearly ongoing, but for right now Blackwell checks out. And the Council has already approved of his event.”

  “Why?” I started to untie the rest of the bandages wrapped around my left arm. “What’s it for?”

  “At the outset? Press. Key members of the Sect’s higher ranks will be seen with political leaders reaching out to victims of phantom attacks, donating to rebuild lives in places where the APDs aren’t always sufficient to protect them. That’s the overt purpose.”

  “And the covert purpose?” Belle plunked her staff onto the mat, hooking her elbow around the wood. “What’s the Council planning?”

  “Those key members of the Sect are going to be meeting with a few of the politicians that have been instrumental in fanning the flames against our operations—and against you.”

  “Inviting your enemies over for tea. Playing nice for the cameras.” By the time Lake came back, she’d downed half the bottle. “Straight out of the diva playbook.”

  “The Sect can be seen as trying to build bridges,” said Brendan. “While at the same time, they can exert their influence, make deals, do whatever they can to try to lessen the public and political heat on us right now. It’s political maneuvering, but doing so under the guise of charity softens the edge.”

  “It’s risky, though,” Lake said. “I mean, you don’t want to look fake while you’re being fake. That’s the first rule of PR.”

  “And it’s actually because of the PR that I’d like you to be there—not all of you, mind,” he said quickly because Chae Rin had already thrown her staff onto the matt. “You can’t be seen as shirking your duties. I’d like one of you to go while the rest complete missions. Just one. For extra security and for the optics.”

  “Not it,” said Chae Rin, splitting the air with the swift crack of her staff.

  “Me! I’ll go!” Lake waved her hand in the air enthusiastically. “I’m sick of being stuck in here anyway. Honestly, lately it’s like we’re either narrowly avoiding death or training up on how to narrowly avoid death.”

  “Sorry, but I think your image as a pop star might have the opposite effect,” Brendan explained. “We need the charity and the Sect by extension to look genuine.”

  “What do you mean?” Lake pulled back. “You think I’m not genuine?”

  Well, I certainly couldn’t tell. Lake’s big doe eyes were a weapon when they were trained at the right target. Brendan was already squirming with guilt.

  “N-no, not at all. I was merely explaining the importance of framing and—don’t get me wrong, Victoria, you’ve been an irreplaceable asset in humanizing the Sect through your activities. You’re very . . . human.” He covered his cough with his fist. “And certainly your appearance has been our asset—appearances!” he added fast, his face burning red. “Your appearances. Your appearances have been an asset . . . to us.”

  “I’m sure you’ve done a lot of thinking about her appearance.” Without looking at him, Chae Rin spun her staff around her head and struck the air with one quick thrust. “And her assets.”

  “Maia!” Brendan blurted out my name, flustered, just as Lake began to consider him with a curious stare. “You, Maia. I think you would be good for this. You have the image of being somewhat of an ingénue. It would work.”

  “Great, another fund-raiser,” I said. The last fund-raiser I went to in New York was a dud even before Saul started slaughtering everyone with phantoms. “All right, whatever. Let’s just hope there isn’t a death toll for this one.”

  “Good. I’ll make sure they know to expect you.” Without another word, he walked out the door.

  “Oh, wait!” I stuffed my bloody bandages into the garbage and caught up with him outside.

  “What is it?” Brendan said as I shut the door behind me.

  “Uh. Well . . .” Now that I was out here, under the unfiltered glare of the morning sun, I didn’t know how to start. The breeze lapped at my face, fluttering the curled hair across my forehead.

  “It’s about Aidan, right?”

  Brendan looked at me like he understood. Of course he did. Aidan was his brother. They were family.

  As I watched his brown eyes lighten, I suddenly felt bare, as if I’d just remembered that half of me was missing. It was the same phantom pain that always sprang up each time I thought of my sister.

  “He’ll be okay,” he said before I could speak. “You’re friends with him, right?”

  I lowered my head. “Friends . . .” Was I?

  “Girlfriend?”

  Startled, I snapped my head back up, shaking my head resolutely.

  “Well, whatever it is, thank you for caring about him.” Brendan lifted his arm as if to touch my shoulder, but, overcome with awkwardness, settled on a curt nod. “He can be a lot to handle. He’s always been mouthy, rebellious. Always talked back to Father.” He paused. “Well, he used to before Greenland. . . .”

  As he trailed off, I could tell the same questions screamed in the silence that stretched between us.

  “Brendan,” I started in a quiet voice. “What Vasily said back there in the Hole—”

  “Vasily is a liar,” Brendan snapped, cutting me off. Then, composing himself, he continued. “Vasily was merely trying to confuse us. It was my mistake bringing Aidan; I should have known something like that could happen.”

  But I wasn’t satisfied with that answer. “Vasily made it seem l
ike something went down, Brendan. Something beyond the fire.”

  “But nothing did,” he said. “You can check the records yourself; it’s all there for public viewing. Believe me, I’ve pored over them more than once. Was the facility tough? Of course. Was the training difficult? Historically so. But when the fire happened, there were so few survivors that the Council simply voted to keep it closed. That’s it. No foul play. All the survivors of the fire were thoroughly interviewed. Even Aidan. He was only fourteen. The poor boy was traumatized. And he never wanted to go in the first place.”

  Brendan’s lips trembled a bit as he closed them.

  “He’s not a bad person,” Brendan said. “Really.”

  “Yeah.” I’d felt it too. The warmth he’d shown me since he’d met me was genuine. But everything about Rhys seemed like a contradiction. The more I peeled, the more sweet parts fell away, revealing those black spots I wasn’t sure I was ready to see.

  “It’s honestly not that complicated, when you think of it.” Brendan shrugged. “He’s a good kid. He has a soft heart, always had. Maybe that’s why it was hard for him. . . .” He trailed off. “He had to go through things, sure—we all have. But he’s fine now. There’s no problem.”

  I let Brendan leave thinking I believed him.

  Secrets piling up like bones in a graveyard. Natalya knew it too. She was probably mocking me in front of the red door, waiting. She had answers. And I had to know for sure.

  I had to see Natalya.

  • • •

  Belle borrowed a vintage pink Beetle from the Sect lot—the same one she always took when she wanted to disappear for a while without telling us where she was going. The fully tinted windows made driving around the city a lot easier; she could peer at the outside, but the outside couldn’t peer at her. It was a comforting thought as we drove through the outer gates, passed the warring crowds picketing and counterpicketing on the other side of the bars. Fans and Sect haters, newly spurred by the attacks in Bloemfontein.

  I pressed my temple against the window as Belle drove. “Isn’t there more we can do?”