by Ally Carter
“April, let me out.”
“No.”
“April, you have to let me out of here. Right now.”
“Why?” she asked simply.
“Because . . .” he started but stammered, so April went ahead and said it for him.
“Your uncle left a window open.” She pointed at the monitors that showed Evert asleep in his bed, curtains billowing in the wind. It took a split second for Gabriel to smile.
“He did.” It was the first time April had ever seen him anything close to happy. And that, more than anything, made her sad.
Then she was walking toward the exit. And the cliffs. And the thing she probably shouldn’t do but was going to do anyway.
“April, he hurts everyone!”
And for a moment, April stopped. She thought about her friends. Sadie and her inventions and Violet and her drawings—Colin’s jokes and Tim’s secrets. Then she realized something else: she’d never had friends before.
It would be a shame to get them killed.
32
The Heist
April didn’t remember her mother, and she had zero recollection of the day she was abandoned. Even the fire at the museum was mostly a blur, but as the rocks bit into her palms and the wind blew through her hair, April knew she’d always remember the night she inched closer and closer to the mini mansion. And the evil uncle. And the key that, according to Gabriel Winterborne, wouldn’t solve anything at all.
But Evert obviously thought the key was important. So it had to be important. It just had to.
A flash of lightning filled the sky, and the wind smelled like rain, and April lay on her stomach for a long time, looking down on the mini mansion and waiting for the inevitable. She half expected to hear Gabriel’s voice in her head—telling her she was making a mistake, that Evert was dangerous and April was a screwup. But the voice didn’t come. Instead, all April heard was the sound of the wind and the thunder and the distant barking of dogs, which shouldn’t have been a surprise, because, seriously, only one thing can come from strapping a whole package of perfectly cooked bacon to the SadieSeer 200 and flying it far away from where April lay waiting. Not all of the guards would go that way. But the dogs would.
And April was small. April was quick. April just had to watch the cameras and stick to the plan. Lightning flashed. Thunder boomed. And then she started to run. She stayed low to the ground, blending with the outcroppings of rocks until she reached the side of the house.
She tried to keep her mind on what mattered: the key. And survival. Even when the rough wood of the trellis bit into her hands, she kept scurrying up the wall like a spider, clinging to anything she could as she inched higher and higher. Even when her fingers slipped on the old boards, she saved herself because . . . well . . . April had always had to save herself.
And, eventually, she couldn’t even hear the barking anymore, so either the dogs had found the bacon or else the storm was just too loud. Or maybe it was the pounding of April’s heart that made the whole world feel like the volume had been turned down—like it was some kind of dream as April reached the windowsill and slid inside.
They’d been watching Evert on the monitors for days, and it felt a little like déjà vu to stand in the house, just twenty or so feet away from his bed. And his bedside table. And the key that lay there, more tempting than anything April had ever seen in her life. This was the only time he ever took it off, and she wanted to grab it—grab it and run and not look back.
When the hardwood floor creaked beneath her feet, she froze. Lightning cracked. Thunder boomed. But the lump on the bed laid perfectly still.
Too still, April thought as a hot breath blew on the back of her neck and someone said, “You’re not quite the mouse I’d hoped to catch.” The light flicked on. “But you’ll do.”
* * *
April had thought Evert Winterborne couldn’t possibly look any more evil, but, well, April was frequently wrong.
His eyes were too wide. And his smile was too big. And, really, no one should ever be that excited about catching an intruder. And yet he practically beamed as he glanced at the big beefy guard by the door.
“I told you no one can resist an open window.”
“Yes, sir,” the guard said, and April knew for certain it had been a trap. She looked at the bed.
“Pillows under the blankets?” she asked, mad at herself. She’d pulled that same trick a dozen times, and she shouldn’t have fallen for it. She shouldn’t have fallen for any of it! Her face turned red, but she didn’t flinch when Evert crouched down as if to put himself on April’s level. But April would never be on his level. No. April was better than him. And she knew it.
Especially when he said, “Where is Gabriel Winterborne?”
He all but licked his lips, but April just shrugged and said, “Dead. Thought you knew.”
Evert grabbed her arms and jerked her close. “I know you’ve been helping him. I know he’s back. And you’re going to bring him to me.”
“I’m not doing anything for you.”
“Oh, but you don’t have to do a thing. He’ll come for you. And when he does, I’ll be ready.”
April didn’t mean to laugh. Really, she didn’t. It was just one of those times where her inside thoughts got mixed up with her outside actions and she couldn’t help herself.
“What is it?” Evert snapped, shaking her. “You think this is funny?”
She knew she was supposed to be afraid, but he didn’t get it. He really didn’t.
“Gabriel Winterborne doesn’t care about me!” April watched Evert’s eyes go wide, and she realized what she’d said—what she’d done. But it didn’t matter, April decided, because he was right. “Yeah. He’s alive. And, yeah. He’s coming. But it won’t be to save me.” April stopped laughing. Suddenly, nothing was funny anymore. “It’ll be to kill you.”
And then there was a boom that was louder than thunder and a flash that was brighter than lightning.
And then the lights went out.
33
The Last Winterborne Standing
April had always been a better-than-average kicker. And biter. But she’d always considered biting the weapon of last resort and she had no desire to know what true evil tastes like.
So April kicked. And lunged. And pushed. And ran. She could hear the commotion behind her, two big men pinging off each other in the dark as April ducked beneath their grasps and darted to the bedside table.
She wanted to shout with relief when her hand touched the key, but there wasn’t time, so she just grabbed it and bolted for the door.
“April?” She’d had her doubts when Sadie had demonstrated the tiny device, but the SadieSonic was as clear as a bell as Sadie spoke in April’s ear.
“I thought it was just going to be a little explosion,” April whispered.
“It was!” Sadie sounded defensive. “At first. Anyway, the generator will be kicking on in five. Four. Three.”
Two seconds later, there was a clicking sound and then the lights of the mini mansion flickered to life, but April was already through the door and running down the hall.
“I’m out,” she asked. “Where now?”
“Take a right up ahead,” Sadie told her.
April turned and sprinted down a corridor that wasn’t quite as wide or as long as the one that ran along the back side of Winterborne House, but there was the same row of windows overlooking the cliffs and the sea.
“How’m I doing, Sade?” she whispered as she ran.
“Keep going straight until—”
April threw open the door at the end of the hall, but it was just a closet. “Not an option.”
“Wait. I’ve lost you,” Sadie said, and April could imagine her scrolling through the various cameras, trying to find the ones that covered this part of the house.
“Turn around,” Sadie said. “Okay. Behind you. No. Wait. In front of you about halfway down the hall, you’re gonna come to a big set of double doors.
Take them.”
April found the doors, then reached for the handles, but they didn’t turn. She lowered her shoulder and tried to push, but the next thing April knew, she was on the ground, rolling and wincing in pain.
“April, look out!” There must have been a time delay on the SadieSonic because the warning came too late.
She tried to scramble back, but Evert was already grabbing her by the arms and jerking her to her feet. “Where did you find that key? Where is the treasure?” he shouted, like it was the most obvious question in the world.
“Treasure?” she asked, because she just couldn’t help herself. “I don’t know anything about any treasure.”
Rain started to fall as thunder boomed, and blinding white light streaked through the windows, like someone taking pictures in the dark. It showed every line on Evert Winterborne’s face—his eyes full of fury and desperation and a kind of madness that April had never seen before.
“Where did you find it?” he roared, but April snapped.
“I didn’t find it! My mom gave it to me!”
Then he dropped her, and his next words were a whisper. “Who are you?”
April was a girl with no family and no name, no future and no past. But before she could utter a word, a voice sliced through the darkness, saying, “She’s our friend!”
The next flash of lighting showed Colin at one end of the hall and Tim at the other. What followed was a whirl of thunder and punches and kicks. And some hair pulling. And a little tripping. And maybe a tiny bit of biting, because desperate times really do call for desperate measures.
The next thing April knew, Colin was on Evert’s back, clinging to him while Evert spun around and around, trying to free himself by centrifugal force alone.
Sadie was in their ears, snapping, “Get out of there. Now!”
Tim was holding up his hands, saying, “April!” and April didn’t wait. She threw the key in his direction, and he plucked it out of the air.
Colin boxed Evert’s ears and jumped from his back. “Let’s go!” he shouted, and April took off after them, down the long corridor past the paintings of dead Winterbornes. She could hear the heavy tread of Evert chasing after her, and she reached for a table, pulling it over, hoping to block the way, but she never did stop running.
Lightning flashed—too close—and the house went dark. Then there was a terrible, piercing sound in April’s ear as the SadieSonic practically exploded—way too loud one moment and then way too quiet the next.
All she heard was a guttural, “Got you!”
All she felt was the burning of her wrist.
All she knew was that Tim and Colin were gone. They probably didn’t even know she wasn’t right behind them.
She felt herself being tugged toward the windows and pressed up against the rain-streaked glass.
“You’re not getting away that easy,” Evert growled, but for some reason, April laughed.
“I may be here, but your key’s gone,” she told him. “Tim’s probably chucking it in the ocean right now.”
“No, he’s not.” Evert shook his head. “But that’s no matter. There’s something I want more. I’ll even let you keep your precious key if you tell me one thing.” He pulled her close. “Where is Gabriel Winterborne?”
Tim and Colin had the key. Tim and Colin were getting away, and April told herself that that was enough. It had to be enough.
“Where is—” Evert started again, but April was smiling.
And saying, “Behind you.”
And just like that, Evert dropped her and spun to face the shadows. Adults really are so gullible, April thought as she reached for the bust of some long-dead Winterborne and hurled it toward the long row of windows that ran the length of the room.
She heard the glass shatter. She felt the shards slicing into her skin and the rain blowing in her face as she lunged through the broken window and out onto the roof of the mansion’s first floor. She heard Evert’s cry as he realized he’d been tricked—that she was getting away. But April didn’t dare slow down to gloat.
The roof was steep and slick, sloping out into the darkness and the rocks and the sea. But that only mattered if she fell. And April had no intention of falling.
She just had to get to the side of the mini mansion. Then she could drop to the ground. Then she could run back to Winterborne House and Smithers’s soup and Ms. Nelson’s soft blankets.
Then she could go home.
“Come back here!” Evert shouted. Maybe he really was crazy, because he followed her onto the roof, lunging and sliding across the wet tiles and grabbing April’s arm.
“Let. Me. Go!” she roared, but as he pulled her back, she made herself go limp. Then when he thought he had her, she threw her head back, jamming the back of her skull into his nose.
She heard him scream and felt his blood run down the back of her neck, warmer than the rain. But then he let go. Which should have been a good thing, but he released her with a shove that sent April sliding. And sliding.
And sliding.
Her hands were bleeding and raw, but she didn’t even feel the pain as she grabbed hold of the gutter and held on for dear life, terror shooting through her as she dangled over the edge. She didn’t want to look down. She didn’t want to see the water crashing on the rocks below. She didn’t want to think about the fall.
“April!”
At first, April thought the SadieSonic was back online, but the voice wasn’t in her ear. No. The voice was on the wind, coming out of the night, too rough and too gravelly to belong to anyone else.
And there he was, standing on the highest point of the rooftop, the coat April made him billowing in the wind.
“It’s you.” For a man who had been chasing ghosts for a decade, Evert Winterborne didn’t seem especially happy to have found one.
“I hear you’ve been looking for me, Uncle.” Gabriel inched forward, and Evert inched back. “Is this the part where I tell you to pick on someone your own size?” He pulled a sword out from beneath his coat with one hand and gripped a knife with the other, and he kept his gaze on Evert, even as he shouted, “Stay perfectly still, April. This won’t take long.”
But the gutter picked that moment to groan beneath April’s weight. A screw broke loose, and the metal jerked, and April screamed.
Then there was a new voice, shouting, “Gabriel! Your knife!” and April looked up to see Ms. Nelson easing through the broken window and sliding across the rain-slicked tiles as the boy she used to spar with tossed his knife into the air. Lightning flickered off the polished blade as it landed in her outstretched palm—like some kind of trick they’d perfected decades ago that never did get rusty.
And then she twisted, driving the sharp blade into the roof, dragging it along until she came to a stop by April, anchored and sure.
“April, take my hand,” Ms. Nelson said, but April was too frightened to even speak.
She regretted never learning how to climb the rope in gym class. She regretted ever going on that stupid field trip to that stupid museum. But mostly, April regretted wasting her life looking for a mother who, so far as April could tell, never, ever looked for her.
The gutter shook again, and Ms. Nelson yelled, “April, take my hand! Now!”
And then April let go of the gutter and reached for the only woman in her life who had ever reached back.
Ms. Nelson’s hand was warm and soft but strong and sure, and April vowed to never, ever let go, just as Ms. Nelson said, “On three, I need you to let go.”
“No!” April shouted, but Ms. Nelson’s knuckles were turning white. Her hand was starting to shake.
“There’s a balcony below you. I’m going to swing you that direction. Then you’ve got to let go.”
“No!” April shouted. “I can’t.”
“April!” The shout cut through the air, and April glanced down to see the balcony doors flying open. Then Tim and Colin were looking up at her while Tim shouted, “We’ll catch you.” And
the craziest thing was that April believed him.
April could hear shouting, fighting—grunts and curses, and she knew that Evert’s goons must have shown up to take on Gabriel, but April had bigger problems.
The knife in Ms. Nelson’s hand jerked as one of the tiles gave way. They both jolted, almost falling, and Ms. Nelson said, “On three.” She started swinging April gently as she spoke. “One. Two. Now!”
For a moment, April was weightless. April was free. She felt like the Sentinel himself as she flew through the air and dropped lightly onto the balcony ten feet away.
“Got you,” Colin said as Tim’s arms drew her in.
“I’m okay!” April cried, looking up at Ms. Nelson’s smiling face. “Jump! We’ll catch—”
But then a terrible cracking sound filled the air, and Ms. Nelson wasn’t smiling anymore.
It seemed to happen in slow motion. And it seemed to happen all at once. April didn’t know how that was possible. She just knew that one moment Ms. Nelson was grinning down at her, and the next the roof tiles were sliding. Falling. And then Ms. Nelson was just . . . gone—disappearing over the edge and into the night.
It felt like a mistake. Like a dream. Like they could just call time-out and do it all again. But there are no do-overs in real life. April knew that better than anyone. She couldn’t even find her voice to scream before Gabriel was rushing to the edge of the roof and shouting, “Izzy!”
He glanced at April, then back to the rocks and the swirling water below. And she knew exactly what he was going to do.
“No!” she shouted, but he was gathering purchase, preparing to jump. “The fall could kill you!”
The rain still fell and the lightning still crashed, but there was no mistaking the sound of heartbreak when he said, “Only if it killed her first.”
And then he leapt out into the darkness, toward the sky and the rocks and the sea.
“Gabriel!” April screamed.
But absolutely no one screamed back.
