Siege of Shadows

by Sarah Raughley

  “Chae Rin! Chae Rin!”

  We looked for the voice. It was faint, but soon we could see someone pushing her way through the crowd to the barricade. Chae Rin’s whole body seized up, her lips parting as soon as the girl broke free from the rest, her hand touching the glowing metal bars.

  “Unnie?” Chae Rin dropped her clutch purse and rushed to the metal bars. “Oh my god!”

  The girl looked very much like Chae Rin, though her sleek black hair was longer and rather limp over her buttoned-up blue blouse—a little stuffy for an event like this. She was only slightly taller, and a bit chubbier, her round cheeks as rosy as the girl whose fingers she clasped. I’d seen her face before in Chae Rin’s electronic file, which Rhys had shown me on the way to Montreal. She was one of four faces on Rhys’s tablet screen as he told me all about Chae Rin’s family.

  Her sister?

  “Unnie!” I’d never heard Chae Rin’s voice like this, almost childish as she jumped up and down and hugged her big sister. “What are you doing here?”

  “I know I’m not supposed to contact you, but I saw that you were nominated and I had to try to get here.”

  She had a slight accent, which I could only assume came from living in Daegu for longer than Chae Rin had. She looked at us, her eyes stretching into beautiful crescents as she grinned. “You’re the other Effigies, right? I’m Ha Rin, big sis. Thanks for keeping my little sister in check.”

  “Hey, nobody keeps me in check.” Chae Rin folded her arms brattily as her sister rubbed her head, messing up her hair.

  The only thing I knew about Ha Rin was that she was studying to be meteorologist at the University of British Columbia. She certainly looked the part with her professional dress blouse, thin white sweater, and black dress pants—an odd combo in the middle of sweaty, screaming children in rocker T-shirts.

  “Seriously, though, what are you doing here? Did something happen?” Chae Rin looked suddenly concerned when her sister’s smile fell. “Mom. Mom’s okay, isn’t she? Or did she have another—”

  “I can’t explain here—I’ll meet you in your hotel room after the show, okay? Text me when you’re done. Don’t worry, it’s nothing really bad . . . ,” she added, though unconvincingly, when she saw Chae Rin’s expression begin to twist with worry. “You’ll be up onstage, right?” she added quickly. “I’ll try to work my way there.”

  “How?” I said. “I’m sure the pit’s already completely occupied.”

  “I have my ways. Okay, kids, move it!” What her mousy blouse didn’t show was the sheer brutality of the sharp elbows concealed within the fabric.

  I laughed, hoping Chae Rin would follow suit, but she stayed quiet down the rest of the length of the red carpet.

  • • •

  The rest of the evening passed by like a dream. Backstage, celebrities I’d only seen before on television came up to me, asking me what it was like fighting monsters, telling me how cute my dress was, though obviously there were others who didn’t seem that willing to share the spotlight even if there were no cameras around. That clique of willowy socialites-turned-models every girl at Ashford High was obsessed with completely ignored me when I said hello. And that one British blue-eyed soul singer was too busy throwing his half-empty coffee cup at a volunteer’s face to even notice me trying to talk to him. At least pop sensation Aaron Jacobs spared me a minute. He’d gotten much nicer after coming back from rehab.

  It was all well and good. Belle was off being chatted up by a young actor who’d once professed to be her fan, not that she seemed very engaged in the conversation. Chae Rin was off by herself, eating half the tray of tiny sandwiches left on a table full of food platters. It was a little bit of respite from everything I’d been through in the past few weeks. Taking pictures with celebrities, watching people go crazy online. For a few blissful hours, I could forget that there were monsters chasing me. I could go back to being just a fan again.

  Maybe it was all the noise, but my head was suddenly throbbing. I grimaced and bent low. GBD had just returned backstage from performing “Scandalous,” and in the midst of glaring at Jo, Lake noticed me wincing.

  “You okay?” Lake asked when I pressed my hand against my forehead.

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” I’d have been more worried if it were the back of my neck again. This was probably just the aftereffect of the mind control. “I think I’m just tired.”

  “Well, it’s almost over.” Lake seemed relieved at the thought as the mechanical female voice called out the nominee list over the sound system. The crowd went wild after every name, but they gave a resounding cheer when the Effigies were listed. Even though I was backstage, I was still streaming the show on my phone—I could see images of us fighting phantoms spliced together in an awesome montage they showed on the jumbotron.

  “And the winner is . . .” The presenter of our award paused for effect. “The Effigies!”

  “Yes!” Lake pumped her fist in the air. “Yes! I told you, bitches!” she said, turning and giving Jo the finger before grabbing me and pulling me up the stairs.

  Everything hit me at once. The lights. The biting cold. The herd of fans, the sound of their screams echoing in the night sky. The jumbotron behind us had a split screen of our profiles, our faces plastered against different-colored backdrops with our names scrawled under each one. The host handed Lake some kind of strange silver trophy as Belle, Chae Rin, and I lined up beside her.

  Lake was babbling her thanks as the rest of us posed and just tried our best to look good. That’s why we were here, at the end of the day. Be pretty. Be a role model. Be a celebrity. Gather your fans and make the Sect look less menacing. That was the task we’d been given, and even knowing what we knew about the Sect, it was too late to skip out on the event Sibyl had okayed. Lake wouldn’t have let us, anyway. I could see how much holding the trophy and waving to her fans meant to her. She clung to the moment as tightly as she clung to her new award.

  “Ugh.” My head was throbbing again. Even in front of so many cameras, I couldn’t stop myself from wincing.

  Maia . . .

  No. My hands fell at my sides. I could hear her. Natalya. I thought I’d buried her deep after that last time she’d tried to take me.

  Maia . . . Don’t be fooled. . . . Pay attention. . . .

  Panic seized me as another wave of pain crashed against my skull from the inside, like she was pounding against the bone with her knuckles.

  “Stop.” I winced again, shutting my eyes. Next to me, Belle shifted her head, confused as she watched me struggle.

  Don’t be fooled. . . . Pay attention!

  My eyes snapped open. Quickly, I looked at the crowd. Something was wrong. I scanned the army of bodies until I found Ha Rin close to the front of the pit behind the glowing barricades. She was waving at us, trying to get our attention. But no, something was wrong. What was this feeling? What was Natalya—

  A rush of cold slipped down my body, freezing me to the bone.

  Vasily.

  His stringy, unwashed blond hair draped over half his face from beneath a black hoodie. He looked at me and smiled.

  My heart thumped so painfully it was difficult to breathe. In that moment, he’d slipped out from between a pair of screaming fans to stand behind Ha Rin. She didn’t notice. Nobody noticed. Nobody could see because nobody was paying attention—not the fans, not the staff, not the celebrities, not the other girls.

  His skin was sallow and bruised, but I knew he was hiding worse injuries beneath his clothes. He looked wired and ready, like a rabid dog that had been starved too long.

  He looked hungry.

  Ha Rin was still trying to get her sister’s attention, but Chae Rin was distracted by Lake, who’d shoved the microphone in her face to get her to say a few words. She didn’t see Vasily float his two fingers near her sister’s temple without touching it, his index and middle finger pressed together and his thumb in the air in the shape of a gun as his eyes locked with mine.

 
; No, no, no. The blinding lights, the shrieking crowd. In that moment, my senses were off-kilter, panic surging through me. Vasily’s emaciated face sparked with malice. And through it all, Natalya was screaming.

  Don’t be fooled. . . . Pay attention! Pay attention!

  Vasily’s hands, quick as a flash, flew into his left pocket.

  “Stop!” I screamed suddenly, and, as the music began playing us off the stage, I erupted into flame, the pole of my scythe forming in my hands, its blade glinting in the night. Everyone onstage jumped back to avoid being touched by the flickering fire.

  “What are you doing?” cried Lake after tripping and falling to the ground. “Stop it!”

  Camera phones were flashing, and while some gasped in fear, there were more excited screams echoing in the night as if I were showing off my power for their amusement. Vasily’s hand was out of his pocket, but it took me a moment to realize that he wasn’t holding a weapon—it was a remote control. He fiddled with a few of the buttons before slipping it back inside his pocket and, with a wink, disappearing into the crowd.

  The screen of the jumbotron behind us fizzled out, our image replaced by static snow. The scythe dissipated in my hands as we turned and watched.

  “What the hell is going on here?” Another host looked around for help, but the staff was too busy running around trying to get the jumbotron working. With a frustrated shrug, he brought his mic up to his mouth, pasting a phony smile back onto his face. “Okay, folks, we’re having a little bit of technical difficulty, but hey, it’s live TV! You know what that means, right? Despite our best efforts, anything can happen.”

  He was trying to spin this as some kind of wild ride typical for teenager-targeted TV, but I could see the beads of sweat dripping from his face. He was worried. He was right to be.

  A few staff members in black clothes rushed up to us. “Ladies, please come with us. We need to get you offstage,” one said.

  But before we could move, the screen turned to darkness.

  The crowd fell silent.

  “Good evening, everyone,” called a voice from the screen. My breath hitched.

  Saul’s voice.

  The darkness receded to show bright lights shining from the ceiling before the camera panned around the room. From what I could tell, it was a cabin: The walls and floors were made of logs. As the camera panned, I saw first a chair, then a tall standing lamp. But the camera didn’t linger. A hung oil painting of an old man eating soup with Death. Boarded-up windows. A potted plant . . .

  Then the camera panned around to the desk, where Saul sat with his legs crossed on the chair in front of it. He was surrounded by phantoms in the shape of wolves, snapping at his feet. Those wolves . . . It’d been a long time since I’d seen them. Like the ones he’d used to attack me in New York and Argentina, their mouths frothed as they snarled. His metal hand tapped the armrest in a steady rhythm. The knife in his other hand glinted underneath the ceiling lights.

  So did the white stone of the ring he wore.

  An old man in a respectable suit lay bound and gagged at Saul’s feet, his chest heaving, his gray hair shaking with the rest of his body. His eyes bulged as he watched the black wolves leave Saul’s side and circle him silently.

  “Oh my god!” The host dropped his mic, and the sound interference split my ears.

  Lake scrambled back to her feet. “What’s happening?” She tugged my arm. “What’s going on?”

  “I recognize that man,” whispered Belle. “I think . . . Is he not . . . the Ontario premier?”

  I had no idea one way or the other. Belle paid more attention to politics than I did. I could see her hands twitching, aching for her sword, aching to fight, but she couldn’t fight an image on-screen and she knew it. Frustration crinkled the skin around her eyes.

  Chae Rin immediately turned to us. “We can catch him. We should try to figure out where he is. We can save him, can’t we?” She grabbed Belle’s arm and a little too violently yanked her around to face her. “Come on! We have to do something!”

  Belle didn’t appreciate being manhandled, or maybe it was the tension of the situation itself. She pulled her arm out of Chae Rin’s grip and shoved her back.

  “What?” Chae Rin spat, once her feet stabilized onstage. “We’re just going to stand here looking like morons? Oh, I guess if it’s not about Natalya, you don’t give a shit, right?”

  Belle responded to Chae Rin with a livid glare, which Chae Rin matched.

  “You know me. My name,” Saul said, grabbing our attention once more, “is Saul.”

  His voice, though forceful, carried with it the kind of well-mannered, gentlemanly lilt I’d associated with Nick. But this brutality . . . The premier’s face had been bludgeoned; his saliva was dripping over the white binds in his mouth. That was Alice.

  The last time I’d faced Saul in France, he’d made it clear that the drives of both were the same: to find the rest of the stone from which the rings had been made. To find Marian. To make a wish. Even if their wishes were different, both personalities, the body and the Effigy ghost inhabiting it, had proven well enough that they were willing to do whatever it took to achieve their goal. A relationship that had started out with antagonism now seemed to have become a begrudging partnership—the kind Natalya and I had shared, for a fleeting moment, before she’d tried to take me over again. Nick’s calm, calculating personality with Alice’s vicious bloodthirst.

  “My name is Saul,” he declared again. “I am an Effigy.” He shoved the point of the knife into the desk behind him, his eyes never leaving the camera. “And you should fear me.”

  In that moment he raised his arms. Black smoke dripped up from the floor, limbs forming before our eyes. More shadow wolves shivered into existence, their dead flesh clinging to their bones, the smoke curling off of their black furry hides into the air over the trembling body of the poor man I knew we wouldn’t be able to save.

  “I come to tell you that I am not acting alone. I come to give you a message.”

  I clenched my hands into fists.

  “And that message is this.” Saul sat back in his chair and folded his arms. “The pain and terror you’ve experienced thus far is only a shade of what lies ahead of you. And the people you’ve foolishly trusted to protect you can’t save you. No. They won’t save you. They’ll betray you.” He flicked a hand and his wolves descended on the senator.

  His screams rattled the walls as the wolves tore apart his flesh.

  No. I looked away, my heart rattling, my body limp and heavy as his screams joined that of the crowd. And through it all I could hear Saul’s promise. It was unmistakable. “You’ll see. In seven days, we’ll come. And death will follow.”

  22

  “LOOK, I DON’T BLOODY KNOW what happened, Henry. Just try to spin this.” Lake paused. “I don’t care if you don’t work for the other girls; the press is killing us. Do something, yeah?”

  In our hotel room, she wasn’t the only one yelling into her phone. Belle was by the heavy, drawn window curtains shouting angrily at Brendan on the other end of the line. Chae Rin sat with her feet on the couch and her knees to her chest, picking the skin on her lips distractedly. Next to her, Ha Rin watched the news with bloodshot eyes, listening limply to terrified pundits collectively implode while they tried to make sense of what had just happened.

  What was there to make sense of? John Walsh, a Canadian premier, had just been torn to shreds, his death streamed internationally. There was no news of any city’s antiphantom defense systems being compromised, so Saul must have taken him to a Dead Zone. It had already been declared an act of terrorism. And while it was happening, the four Effigies whose duty it was to protect the world had been standing onstage at a teen awards show, collecting a spray-painted trophy for being role models. The headlines wrote themselves.

  I was pacing back and forth by the door, unable to calm myself. Natalya’s voice had receded back into my mind, but I was still disturbed, still on edge, which
is why I jumped at the sound of a few swift knocks at the door.

  “It’s me,” came Uncle Nathan’s voice from the other side of the door. I let him in.

  “What are you doing here?” I shut the door fast as he stalked inside with his laptop underneath his arm. “Nobody can see you here.”

  “It’s okay—nobody saw me.” He set his laptop down on the table a few feet away from the minifridge. The sounds of pundits screaming over one another drew his attention, and after mere seconds of watching the television, he shook his head. “This is bad. Very bad.”

  “You saw it, right?” I said.

  “Yeah. I don’t drink much, but I definitely felt like knocking back a couple of those complimentary mini-scotches in the fridge.”

  “Seven days,” I said.

  “Seven days. Giving a timeline only ramps up global hysteria, fear, and anger. Anger at the Sect.” He looked at me with worried eyes. “At you.”

  Belle clicked off her phone. “The top officials from the Sect are already planning on conferencing with the world’s leaders. But many of them are refusing to meet. They’re furious.”

  “We should have done something.” Chae Rin gripped her knees, her chin pressed against them. Then, lifting her head, she glared at Belle. “We should have done something.”

  “Done what?” Belle shot back. “We couldn’t do anything from where we were.”

  “Exactly!” Chae Rin jumped to her feet, staying rooted to the spot only because her sister had climbed up after her and grabbed her arm to calm her. “We’re Effigies, damn it. We’re supposed to be out there fighting, not playing dress-up like clowns on TV. We’re not supposed to be looking pretty. We’re supposed to be making people feel safe. That’s what I . . .” She looked back at her sister before lowering her head. “Saul told the world he was an Effigy. I can’t even imagine what my parents think right now. What must be going through their heads.”