by LJ Swallow
“Who?”
“Alaric.”
He runs hands down his face. “Things are too complicated for you to understand, girl.”
That's it. Girl. “Fine.” I step toward the door and he grabs my arm.
“No. Sorry. Don't leave, we're not safe.” He rifles through the drawers in Brandon's desk. “Does he have a gun?”
“Gun? He's a bloody witch! Why would he need a gun?” I laugh.
“Some witches like all options, sweetheart.” Metal catches the light as he pulls out a handgun. I back away as he points the barrel in my direction. “Help me.”
“How?” I hold my hands up. “What can I do? Nothing!”
His arms shake as he drops the safety catch, gun still pointed in my direction. “Help me.”
The fear in the man's voice drains into desperation and I focus on the weapon, perspiration sliding down my back. The man is shaking and unsteady. His finger could slip and I'd get a bullet in the head.
“Put the gun down... I don't even know your name.”
“They don't know what they're dealing with,” he mutters to himself before looking back to me. “I've seen. I've seen what they do. We can't let this happen anymore.”
If he's seen something he shouldn't, then he's a dead man, whatever help I give him. And I think he realises this. “What who does? The Senate?”
“No. No.”
He lowers the gun, and I step closer. “Put the gun down,” I whisper. “Killing me won't help. You could make things worse. I'm a Scion.”
He hesitates, hand shaking. “How have they hidden this? I can't walk away from what I've seen. I should never...”
The man descends into mumbling panic, and I can't make any sense from him as I loosen the gun from his distracted hands. I've no idea how to work one and terrified the weapon will fire, I push it across the desk away from us both.
“Help me.” The man seizes my shoulders and shakes.
Here I am, a Scion with a lowly job in a Senate falling apart, and a man I don't know begs for help I can't give him.
A man accused of something imminently responsible for his death.
Someone I can't be seen with.
“I'm sorry,” I whisper and wrench myself from him.
Impressed at the speed of my reaction, and half expecting a bullet in my back, I charge out of the room and throw the door closed behind me. The long hallway is empty, but the shouting continues. Heavy footsteps run along the carpet from behind me, and doors slam open and closed, rooms checked. Catching sight of security guards, I sidestep into the bathrooms.
Gun shots.
Screaming.
This can’t be an attack by witches. They don’t need guns.
I scout the shining white bathrooms. They're empty and clean, a fresh soap scent lingering. Pushing a stall door open, I creep in and lock myself in. The door stops a few inches from the floor. My feet. I climb onto the toilet and brace my arms against the walls, steadying my trembling legs. What if somebody looks for witnesses? I concentrate on staying upright, every sound terrifying me into surety I'll be found.
Five. Ten. Thirty minutes? I maintain the position as time drips past. Terror twists my insides into tight knots with every bang, every unintelligible word. Only when I can no longer hear my heart pounding blood through my ringing ears do I step down. The silence took over the commotion and now could be safe to leave, but the quiet terrifies me more.
I quietly close the bathroom door behind, stepping back into the shrouded hallway. The strip lights along the centre flicker, intermittently lighting the way. I press my back against the wall and plan an escape route in my head. End of hall. Left. Back. Stairwell.
A new sound, a low hum, travels through the building, growing in intensity as the seconds pass. I push my hands over my ears as the noise grows and claws into my head, behind my eyes. My vision blurs. The shooting scared me, but whatever magic exists around me now is terrifying.
Is the floor shaking or me?
Escape route.
The noise grows and the pressure in my head intensifies. How do I leave when I can't see where I'm going? The wall warms beneath my palm as I steady myself when I walk—no, not warmth but a growing heat spreading through the plaster. I snatch my hand away. My nose runs and I wipe my face, before placing my hand back on the wall.
Blood streaks the surface and I stare at my fingers. I wipe my nose again and the fear from the last hour switches to horror as I stare at the blood. Stumbling through the flickering darkness, I call out for help as I run towards the stairwell.
I trip over something lying on the floor and clamp a hand over my mouth when I look down. A man's face shines in and out of view, each time revealing more I wish I'd never seen.
Blood streaks from his open eyes, like macabre make-up painting his face into a sickening mask. Though his mouth is open, the man's features are contorted into something less human. The man with the gun.
His hand is outstretched beside him, palm open and I catch sight of a familiar symbol. The rune from the servant's chest yesterday glows faintly, dissipating with each second.
Hyland.
I break into a run, disorientated in the fear and dim light. More red streaks the walls, at a level where somebody steadied themselves like me. I follow the trail to the inevitable.
My feet hit another body.
This isn't happening. This isn't my world. I fight from screaming out again and reach the stairwell door. Locked. The heat grows and the noise grows, travelling faster and faster towards me, like a shrieking train hurtling in my direction.
Desperately, I grapple with the door, bloodied hand slipping against the metal. One hard shove with my shoulder, and I burst through. My footsteps echo as I run down the concrete stairs, and fall through the back entrance into the quiet night. No sound past the calm breeze stroking my face. Whirling around I stare up at the building containing horrors nobody else can see or hear.
But if people died, it doesn't matter who saw because the victims will be found tomorrow. I delve into my bag for car keys and stumble across the car park, where mine is one of only a few left.
“Who the fuck is that?” Two men stand nearby, leaning against a large car and talking. One breaks into a run as he sees me, metal flashing as he raises a gun. “Stop!”
I duck behind a car and hold my breath. Now what?
“What the hell were you doing in there? What did you see?” The voice grows closer and I bolt from behind the car and back towards the building.
“Don't let her go!” shouts the other man. “Just fucking shoot.”
My feet thud across the tarmac, the sound matching my heartbeat, and I duck around a corner to head back to the building frontage. I'll be more public there; others could be around. They won't kill me.
But the bodies—those people worked in the sanctuary of the Senate building and they died. Important people. I'm Cora Karran, nobody. I can “disappear,” hasn’t this Scion told people she wanted to escape her life in the Sector?
Somebody wraps an arm around me, squeezing my neck as he covers my mouth. Seriously? Again? I jab my elbow backwards into solid muscle, and when that fails, jam my spiked heel into the foot of my assailant. I dig a key between two fingers, pointing outwards to create a weapon.
“I'm wearing boots, Cora.”
I tense at Mattias's voice. He spins me around and glances at the oncoming footsteps. “Are you bleeding anywhere?” I look back blankly. “Cora?”
“I don't know. There's blood but it might be someone else's.” I hold out a trembling hand.
“Shit.” Mattias looks at my other hand, then wrenches the key from between my fingers. He seizes my wrist and scrapes the edge of the key across my palm. Hard.
“What the fuck?” I hiss and struggle to get my bleeding hand away from his.
“Shut up!” I stare in horror as he scratches his own hand and clamps fingers around mine, palms together in a vice-like grip.
“What the hell are you—” He presses m
e against the bricks, one hand covering mine as he stifles my words with the other, and mutters something under his breath. The weird world I find myself in tonight withdraws further, replaced by a shimmering barrier I can barely see through. I buck against him, picturing the death about to round the corner, or at his hands. If this man is responsible and he knows I witnessed death, his friends with guns will ensure I'm next.
Mattias grips me firmly. “We're cloaked, but you still need to keep your mouth shut,” he mutters against my ear. My hand heats where his blood touches mine, lancing pain along my arm. I close my eyes as the ache coils like a snake around my arm, squeezing and surging through my nerves.
“Shit. Am I hurting you?” he asks. I grit my teeth and struggling not to cry out. “If they see you, you're dead,” he says and clutches me tighter. “I have to risk this.”
Risk? I jolt at an agonising spasm behind my eyes, and I'm on the verge of passing out when Mattias releases me. The pain snaps away and I sink to the floor, fighting for breath. “What did you do?”
“I said, cloaking.”
“That's not like any cloaking spell I've read about.”
“You mean what you're not supposed to read about?” He drags me to my feet and examines my hand. “If those guys caught you they'd put a bullet in your head.”
Something supersedes that fear, something worse. “Your blood is poisonous.”
Mattias chews on his lip as he examines my hand. “Yes. Maybe.”
“Yes? That’s my fate? A bullet in the head or slow poisoning by Hyland blood?”
He strokes his thumb across the wound and the pain dulls, replaced by a tingling heat spreading up my arm to replace the pain. “That might not be enough to do any damage.”
“Might?”
“Cora, did you want to die tonight?” he asks in a harsh voice. “I took a risk. I didn't have time to ask your permission.”
Mattias remains pressed against me, and I stare back at him with a hardened mouth. “Bloody witches, think they can do what they want!”
Mattias laughs. “What would you have said if I asked?”
“I don't know. And you can let me go now.” I wriggle against him, and he releases my hand, placing his either side of me on the wall.
“Promise me you won't run screaming.”
I grasp his arms. The silence surrounds us, the men gone, and reality bites. Shock hits and the shaking starts again. “This guy... in there. He asked for help and I couldn't, and then... I saw him on the floor with...” I gesture at my eyes. “And others. Humans.”
Mattias huffs. “Why were you in there?”
“I was working late.”
“Oh crap, Cora. Were you in the library again?”
“No!” He cocks a brow. “Yes.”
“You're determined, aren't you?”
“To protect myself, yes. After what I saw tonight...”
My mind flies with possibilities. Was it him? His brother? But mostly, what the fuck is going on?
Which it seems I involuntarily voiced.
“I don't think anybody saw you,” he says and holds my head again. Why won't he move? His proximity smothers me, and at this moment, the thing I need the most is for Mattias to step back and let me think straight.
“Apart from you.”
“That doesn't matter. Don't tell anybody you were here, I won't.”
“And you?”
“I was never here if anybody asks you.”
The rank odour from refuse increases my nausea. I can’t believe this is happening. “You want me to lie for you?”
“I saved your life, you can save mine.”
I put my hands between our chests and push at him. “Was it you? Did you kill those men?'
Mattias drops his arms and his face darkens. “You think I'd kill people?”
“I don't know! Why else wouldn't you want me to tell people I didn't see you? This is exactly what everybody expected when Alaric stepped into his new role.”
He takes another step back. “That was an accusing tone.”
“You know your brother and must be aware how he'd behave if he became Regent. You should've taken the role.”
“You wanted me to fight him?” His mouth curls in disgust. “How would that make anything better?”
“No, I don't mean...”
“Then what? Cause a war between us? Watch people die?”
“I just watched people die!” I wave my hand in the direction of the building.
“I came here to stop that and failed. The last thing I need is you accusing me of betraying people.” I can't reply but he reads the words in my eyes. “You think I'm wrong?” Mattias's voice hardens. “You have no fucking clue what you're talking about.”
“Explain to me, then. You didn't visit me today like you promised.”
This man, bigger and stronger than I am, surrounds my body and senses, holding me in place by this tiniest physical contact than if he'd held me here. “This is too dangerous. Don’t be under the spotlight.”
I duck from under his arm. “And who will you be? Mattias, the man who'll live in his brother's shadow?”
“No.” His voice and face harden.
I step up and place my face close to his. “So you're Ty, are you?”
He doesn't flinch. “If you don't back off, you'll end up buried beneath this crap, Cora. Like I say, play your role and keep your head down.”
“Like you do?”
I gasp as he shoves me back against the wall, holding me with a broad hand. “Yes. Which is why I'm leaving because I can't live this fucking life anymore. Alaric can do what the hell he wants.”
“You can't leave. Look at the mess he's about to make of the world. The sector needs your help.”
In the silent evening, I shiver in the intensity of his gaze despite the warmth. “Take away two things from this, Cora: one, you didn't see me tonight, and two, the world is smoke and mirrors. Please, Cora, find a witch boy to marry and disappear from view. Don't die by staying mixed up in this.”
“Is that what you want? For me to take my stale life here? I could come with you.”
He holds my head in both hands. “No. You can't. I suspected you'd be here, I've noticed you stay late. I could've left when I realised I was too late to save those people, but I knew somebody would see you. I've helped you, but I can't risk your life again.”
“Because your brother thinks I'm committing treason with you?”
“No, you don't know him and what he's capable of. You’re in more danger because he can see I’m falling for you.”
Mattias closes his eyes against the words he let slip, as I take a sharp breath.
“If you're falling for me, if you care about me, then help me escape with you.”
He points at my hand. “I just saved your life with magic, Cora. Magic with a human. I shouldn't protect you. I should use you until you're broken and move onto the next.”
“Mattias or Ty should?”
He shakes his head and crosses his arms. “Doesn't matter who the fuck I am, but you mean too much, and right now I can't be the man you met that night. I can't be who you need. So, please, help me out and keep out of my brother's firing line.”
I shiver in the cool evening, against him and the situation. My hand throbs where he tore the skin and I wrap my fingers around the wound. “I apologise for making you care about me.”
Mattias strokes my lips. “I'm sorry, Cora.” He pushes a hand in his jacket pocket and produces my notebook. “Maybe this will help.”
I stare. “Magic? My delusional spells?”
“Take it.”
Tears brim my eyes as I reach out to take the book. “Don't leave me here. If you have somewhere safe, take me with you.”
“That's the point. It won't be safe for you. Not yet.”
“Yet?”
He tracks a tear with his finger. “Alaric has set me up. I'm about to be accused of treason and murder. You won't be safe if you're with me.”
My bre
ath shudders out. “Ty, please.”
“Shit.” He drags a hand down his face. “Give me time. If your life is threatened I'll come back for you.”
“Will you? I don’t think you’ll come back,” I whisper.
“You told you how I reacted when I heard that scum the night we met—if anybody threatens you or somebody hurts you, I will end them so painfully they'll regret it every last moment of their pathetic life. I promise.”
I slump against the wall. Arguing with Mattias is pointless. I'm a weight on his back. I may touch his guarded heart, but that's not enough for his trust or to allow a mere girl to interfere in his plans. Maybe one day I'll reach far enough into Mattias that I'll find Ty again.
If he ever returns.
Mattias wipes my face with the back of his hand and leans in to kiss me softly on the lips. “Stay safe, Cora.”
I fight crumpling to the floor, throwing myself into his arms, and begging him to let me into his life, to help me escape. But the Cora with common sense knows his words are correct. Running with a fugitive Mattias is a bigger danger than staying here. I wind my arms around his neck and press my mouth against his in return. He sighs and holds me, but doesn't deepen our kiss, instead rests his lips against my hair.
“I have to go. You have to go.” He pulls back and smoothes my hair down, holding my face in his hands. “Stay curious, Cora. It could save your life.”
14
This morning I woke to a quieter world. The trees line the road, flowers in the neat beds, and the summer sun already heats the day. Everything is the same as yesterday, but as I walk to work, there's a tired tension from passers-by. Nobody registers each other.
I pause a street away from the Senate building and gaze up at the glass-panelled front, at the Senate sign spanning one side of the building, halfway up. Nothing here looks different, but what is the Sector waking up to?
This is the last place I want to be today. All evidence of the deaths has gone. No blood. No scent, but the magic from last night lingers. Am I the only one aware? No. A couple of the witch Senate members talk in hushed tones about the presence they feel.
The unnatural silence in the Senate building stands as a symbol to our future, as does the change.
