“I do not like to be interrupted,” Julian said as he strode toward the door, grabbing the staff on the way. The door opened, and he stepped into the hallway outside the lab. “You!” he shouted. “What’s going on?”
Someone responded, but it was too muffled for Noah to hear.
“Come here and guard this room,” Julian snapped. “Now.”
A patrol officer in captain black walked in front of the doorway. The still-open doorway. And Julian Bishop walked away.
Finally.
Noah waited as long as he dared. Ten, fifteen seconds. If Julian turned around from wherever he was heading and saw the patrol captain walk into the room, it would be all over. And he doubted he’d get another chance.
He positioned a cuffed hand awkwardly, twisting to the limit to ensure a clear line of fire, and blasted the back of the patrol captain’s head.
The man pivoted to the right, opposite the direction Julian had gone, and walked away.
Despair pooled in Noah’s gut. He had no idea what went wrong — maybe all this torture had screwed up his magic somehow. But that wasn’t what he meant to happen. The captain was supposed to come in here and release him.
Just as he decided that he really was going to die here, the patrol captain came back and entered the room, with something jingling in his hand.
He’d gone to get the keys for the cuffs.
Shaking with relief as the man unlocked his wrists and ankles without a word, Noah watched the door and tried to plan his next move. There was obviously a disturbance out there somewhere. An alarm, a breach of some sort. But since Noah had no idea where he was, he couldn’t even guess what kind of problem there might be.
His best bet was probably to go in the opposite direction of the disturbance and try to find a way out.
But when he climbed painfully from the table and looked at the blank-eyed captain, he had a better idea.
He blasted the man again. “Report.”
“The Darkspawn are in the building,” the captain said in a voice like a recording.
Noah’s throat tightened with profound, surprised gratitude — and a deeper level of fear. Somehow, they’d found him. They came to rescue him.
And they could easily get themselves killed doing it, because Julian Bishop was out there.
Ignoring the idea of finding some clothes or creeping out cautiously, he opened drawers until he found something useful. A short, razor-sharp scalpel. Magic could never touch Julian, he knew that now without a doubt. But the bastard could bleed.
And speaking of that knowledge. If he was hopefully getting out of here, so was the person who’d given it to him. He blasted the patrol captain once more, with a slight twinge of guilt. The man would probably never be right in the head again. “Free the other prisoner,” he said.
The man blinked, shook his head, and started walking.
Noah didn’t wait to make sure the captain left the room. He ran out into the hall, raced left in the direction Julian had gone. The hall took a left at the far end, and within a dozen steps, he made out the sounds of a fight coming from there. Shouting, gunfire, blasting. A bolt of red magic — an actual bolt, not the fireballs Silas usually threw — careened from the corridor and exploded against the wall in a shower of light rays.
That was magic he didn’t recognize at all. Did these patrols have magic?
When he reached the turn, he stopped for just a second to assess what he saw. A hallway like this one, doors on the left, solid wall on the right. Julian and the staff, ten feet away with his back to Noah. Beyond him, past a handful of motionless patrols scattered on the floor, was Teague with her arm outstretched and glowing purple. Then Diesel behind her, and … a very large biker?
Rook, he realized with a start. That’s where the red magic came from. What the hell was the informant doing here?
He also noticed the clock on the wall above Julian’s head. It read 10:58.
And Julian was raising the staff.
Teague, move!
She actually seemed to hear him. She glanced up, her eyes widened. And she stepped aside.
Noah ran at Julian, drawing the scalpel back. The man turned at the sound with a snarl on his face, just in time for Noah to plunge the short blade into the front of his shoulder. He screamed and swung the staff around.
Another scream eclipsed Julian’s. Diesel, on fire. Running at him.
The end of the staff whacked Noah in the ribs with a cracking snap, like a bat hitting a baseball. The force of the blow lifted him off the floor and sent him crashing into the wall.
He gasped, slid slowly down. Saw Julian staring in shock at the blazing man barreling toward him. “You,” Julian rasped. “My God … you’re alive.”
Still screaming, Diesel grabbed him in a bear hug and tackled him to the floor. The flames crackled and spread, catching Julian’s shirt, his arms, his hair.
Teague, who’d run right after Diesel, dropped to her knees and slid across the polished floor, past them.
She snatched the staff from Julian’s hand on the way.
CHAPTER 65
BiCo Ground Zero Facility
August 14, 11:00 p.m.
Now that she had the damned staff, Teague had no idea what to do with it.
She was past Diesel and Julian, who were rolling around on the floor in a fiery embrace, and saw Noah huddled against the wall. Bruised, bleeding and dazed, but alive. She ran over and crouched in front of him. She’d protect him with the staff if Julian tried to come after him again.
Whatever it was, the staff was loaded with magic of its own. She could feel it seeping out slowly, warming her hands, trying to move through her. She even knew how to use it, in a vaguely general way.
The staff was trying to download instructions.
Julian managed to break away from Diesel just as the white-gold flames went out — but there were still flames, non-magical, burning Julian. He rolled twice, managed to put most of them out, and sprang to his feet with a snarl.
Then he sprinted down the hallway, past a startled Sawyer. Headed for the exit.
Teague wasn’t about to let that son of a bitch get away.
She straightened, poised to run after him. But before she could move, Noah called, “Don’t! Let him go.”
She actually jerked with the effort of not moving. A flash of anger burst in her, but she held it back. Noah must have a reason. Absolutely nothing in her agreed with letting him go, but she’d trust Noah’s judgment. “Fine,” she seethed as she turned back to him. “Can I ask why, though?”
Noah’s brow went up in sheer astonishment. “Who are you, and what did you do with Teague?” he said.
“Huh?”
He smiled, then winced deeply. “You just did what I told you to do.”
“Well, I—” She felt the string of the bag she’d carried for Diesel slip down, a slight tug. Hiding a smile, she removed one hand from the staff so he could take it. She didn’t turn around, but to her left, Sawyer was gaping at something just behind her — which she knew happened to be a large, naked man with dragon-scale Magesign.
“Anyway,” she said. “I figured you had a reason to let him go. I can’t imagine what, but you’re in charge. At least, I want you to be. Because I … damn it, will someone please figure out how to turn that alarm off?”
Sawyer tore his gaze from the rustling sound that was Diesel getting dressed and sent a red blast at the blaring siren light on the ceiling — which surged impossibly brighter, and then shattered and warbled into silence.
“That works,” she said. “Thank you.”
Noah laughed. “It looks like you’re in charge … oh, Christ, that hurts,” he gasped, pressing an arm to his ribs.
Before she could react to the fact that he was seriously injured, even worse than he looked, Diesel stepped past her dressed in shorts and a t-shirt. He helped Noah gently off the floor, leaving an arm around his waist. “I’ve got you,” he said, his voice nearly breaking.
“Thanks.” Noah lifted
a tired smile. “I … don’t even know which question to ask first. How fast do we need to get out of here, for starters?”
“I think we’ve got some time.” Sawyer, still wearing Biker Rook, moved toward them with someone else just behind him. “Go on, let them know,” he said.
Darby took a trembling step around him. “Noah?” she rasped. “You’re really … oh, God. You’re alive.”
He smirked. “Mostly.”
She staggered over to him, stopped in front of him. “Jesus,” she whispered, smiling through tears. “I was going to hug you. Maybe that’s not a good idea.”
“Rain check,” he said.
“I’ll take it. But I’ve still got an extra one to give out.” The shorter woman turned and threw her arms around Teague. Her shoulders heaved once, settled. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Thank you. So much.”
Teague hugged her back, feeling better than she had in a long time. “It wasn’t me. It was us,” she said.
Sawyer cleared his throat. “What Elf Ears meant to say was that Julian hopped in an SUV and took off, and every other patrol in this place is scrambling to follow him right now,” he grumbled. “You were right about that main exit tunnel, Teague. So we’re not going to be killed any minute. In case you were wondering.”
Darby stepped back and swiped an arm across her face. “Yeah. That,” she said, grinning. “Oscar’s pissed off because they already took most of the stuff he had hotwired. But even if they weren’t running off like dogs, we had it covered out there.”
“I know you did.” Teague smiled back. “Can you head back out and let everyone know Noah’s all right, and keep watch for stragglers? We’ll be out in a few minutes. Oh, and you can probably turn the rain off now.”
“On it.” With another relieved smile for Noah, Darby waved and jogged off down the hall.
“I’ll be damned,” Noah said.
Teague shot him a quick frown. “What?”
“I thought I’d have to convince them not to kill you, if I ever got out of here. Which, honestly, I didn’t expect to happen,” he said. “But it looks like you’ve already taken care of that, too.”
Diesel caught her gaze, and the gratitude in his eyes melted her. “Teague found you,” he said. “She organized all this. She’s … really something.”
“Yeah. Who knew there was a leader in there?” Sawyer said with a heavy dose of sarcasm. But he smiled. “Nice work, kid.”
“Okay. I just figured out the second thing to ask.” Noah leaned forward a little to stare at Sawyer. “How the hell did you get mixed up in all this?”
“That’s a long story,” Teague said. “I’ll tell you later, if it’s okay with him.”
Sawyer nodded — maybe with respect, she thought. But with him, it was impossible to tell.
“Anyway, we got the staff.” She held it forward, stared at it. “So what are we supposed to do with it?”
“I’ll take that back,” a weak voice behind her said. “If you don’t mind.”
Teague whirled with a gasp, expecting to see Julian. He must’ve doubled back somehow. But the man standing at the end of the hall where Noah had come out wasn’t even close. In fact, she wasn’t even sure it was a man. It was a skin-covered skeleton in a filthy hospital gown, with a snarled mane of dreadlocks tangled into a long, knotted beard. His face was … wrong, his brow too big, his cheeks too sunken. And his pupils were rectangular, like a goat’s.
Noah grunted and stood on his own, patting Diesel’s arm in thanks. The big man hardly noticed — he was busy staring at the apparition. “It’s okay, Teague,” Noah said, taking the staff carefully from her unresisting hand. “This belongs to him.”
“What the hell is … him?” Sawyer said hoarsely.
Before Noah could answer, Diesel took a single, trembling step forward.
“Orrin,” he said in an awed whisper. “You’re Orrin.”
“Yes. I am.” The skeleton man nodded as he accepted the staff Noah handed him. “And yes. I know who you are.”
“You do?”
“I do.” The man called Orrin smiled. “Your name is Mathias.”
Teague shivered, went to Diesel and took his hand very gently, remembering what Julian said to her, the words that came back the first time she’d watched him burst into flames. He burned to death. And what he’d said here in the hallway: My God, you’re alive.
“He’s right,” she said when Diesel turned toward her, his featured stunned. “Mathias Bishop. You’re Julian’s brother.”
CHAPTER 66
BiCo Ground Zero Facility
August 14, 11:28 p.m.
Noah’s heart actually stopped with Orrin’s words. He hadn’t even considered that if Diesel somehow knew Orrin’s name, then Orrin might know who Diesel was.
But the shock of that revelation was nothing compared to what Teague added.
Julian’s brother?
“Ah, that’s right. Bishop. I’d forgotten that part.” Orrin moved a few steps forward, leaning on the staff. His condition seemed to be improving a little. “Likely because you’re nothing like those other two.”
“Other two?” Diesel rasped.
“Royce. Julian. Awful creatures, both of them.”
Diesel shuddered visibly. “Who are you?”
“Never mind that for the moment. We’re discussing who you are, and …” Orrin leaned toward him and peered. “I think you are more than Mathias, now.”
“What?”
Noah stepped up and put a hand on his friend’s arm. “It’s all right,” he said. “He’s one of the good guys, I promise. For now … you’ll just have to trust him. Or at least trust me.”
Diesel gave a grateful nod and relaxed. “All right,” he said. “I trust you. Him, I’m not so sure about.”
Orrin didn’t seem to care about Diesel’s lack of trust. He moved a few steps closer, still staring into the big man’s eyes. After a moment, a fond smile lit his strange face. “There you are, old friend,” he murmured. “I’d wondered … well, that settles it.” He stepped back. “You’re also Elandwyl.”
“I’m a what?”
“Who.” Orrin made a throat-clearing sound and pointed at the Magesign on Diesel’s chest. “Do you mind?” Without waiting for an answer, he pressed a palm to the scales.
A white glow poured over his hand and down his arm, smoothing rough, cracked skin and plumping flesh as it went. Within seconds, the glow infused his entire body and flared bright as the sun. Then the light rippled out, imploding rather than exploding. Drawn into the man with the staff.
Noah blinked rapidly in the aftermath. The once-skeletal Orrin stood firm and solid, all lean muscle and sinew, the baggy hospital gown now taut across his chest and straining at his arms.
“Oh, my God,” Teague said. “Diesel, did you…”
“It wasn’t me. I mean, I guess it was, but—”
“It was Elandwyl. His power, at least.” Orrin held a hand out, gave it a critical look, then lifted a clump of matted dreadlocks and sighed. “Didn’t do anything about this, unfortunately,” he said.
“What … who is Elandwyl?” Noah said with caution. He had an idea, one he wasn’t sure what to think about. The fire, the scales, that massive voice. And the last thing Orrin said to him in the cubes, before he passed out.
Orrin’s brow furrowed, and he looked around slowly. “He’s actually here, somewhere. Besides in you,” he said, gesturing at Diesel. “It would be better to show you. If we can find him.”
“I think that’s my job.” Rook, who’d been watching everything in astonished silence, stepped forward. “That was the last thing you — well, the other you said to me, wasn’t it? ‘Knight, shine your light. Find me.’”
Noah frowned. “I really missed a lot, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, you did,” Diesel said with a smirk.
“Let me guess,” Rook said. “Elandwyl is really big.”
Orrin nodded. “He is.”
“Right. Follow me.”
She nodded, glanced ahead, and half-whispered, “It’s Sawyer.”
“Sawyer Volk?”
“I heard that,” Rook growled from the front. “Hey, Teague. When we get out of here, why don’t you hold a press conference and tell the whole damned world?”
She laughed. “You said I could tell him.”
“Yeah, I did. But you did.”
“Anyway,” Teague said, rolling her eyes. “We can trust him.”
“Huh. Apparently we can.” Noah thought back to the prison break, how furious he’d been when Sawyer showed up there — not for a drunken brag-fest, after all. For a distraction. And it worked like a charm, because Sawyer was BiCo’s poster-boy Knight. Their beloved celebrity hero.
It was one hell of a cover.
Sawyer led them past the lab, past the cell-cube room, all the way to the industrial double doors at the end of the hall. “This has to lead to the hangar, or whatever it is, we saw outside,” he said. “Twenty bucks says it’s locked.”
“No problem.” Diesel moved up the line and grabbed one of the handles. “You should stand back,” he said to Sawyer.
“Sounds like a good idea to me.”
When the space was clear, Diesel’s hand started glowing white. He yanked the door with a grunt. Metal snapped and shrieked as he dragged it open, forcing the hinges the wrong way. “There,” he said. “Now it’s not locked.”
Sawyer gave him a strange look as he eased around him. “Thanks. Uh, remind me not to piss you off. Ever.”
Everyone filed through, into the space beyond. The building was the size of a hangar, but there were no planes. Instead, there were massive vats. Eight of them, taking up the entire back half of the space — easily ten feet tall and fifty feet in diameter, with ladders bolted to the outsides and lids hinged at the center. The front half of the building was empty save for a few stacks of boxes against the far wall.
In the Shadow of Dragons (Aftermagic Book 1) Page 31
