by Claire Luana
The hallway outside the Ops Center was filled with people—Oliver was talking with Signe and Revne in hushed tones. Alviya and Bas waited a little way down the hall, his hand on her shoulder.
When Konstantin approached, Oliver and the sisters turned to him. Revne and Signe, their two resident norns, looked nearly identical—tall, lithe blondes with bone structure a supermodel would kill for. While Signe was blind, Revne was deaf, both giving up a natural sense for the preternatural foresight their heritage had granted them. But it didn’t slow either of them down—both were brilliant and an integral part of Veil Force’s success.
“What’s going on?” Konstantin asked.
The doors to the Ops Center were shut. Through the window, Konstantin could see that only Kiki and Cyriaque were inside.
Kiki flashed him a quick glance. Her eyes were red-rimmed.
“Cyriaque had a team pick up Zariya this afternoon,” Oliver said. “Leilani’s leading. Posing as an enemy of MASC to see if Zariya can be flipped.” Leilani, number two on Corvus team, was a Hawaiian kapua shapeshifter who could take any form.
Signe shook her head. “When I said test, I meant of her skills, not her loyalty. The sword chose her. She’s as honorable as her father.”
“Any of my team on the mission?”
“He didn’t call in any Phoenix members. I bet the Director knew you wouldn’t like it.”
“Damn right I wouldn’t like it.”
“Kiki said something about the mara?” The mara was a contractor they used when they needed someone broken—a supe with the power to control nightmares. After a few hours with the mara in his head, even the toughest sonofabitch was crying to give up his secrets.
“She’s working Zariya right now,” Revne said. Her voice was grave.
Emotions roared to life within him—outrage and burning anger. His vision narrowed at the thought of Zariya’s delicate form wracked with the pain of her worst nightmares. And there was something else, too. A fierce desire to protect her and keep her from harm. Ours, it snarled.
He burst through the door of the Ops Center, going for Cyriaque. He barreled into the Director, driving him back against the far wall.
Cyriaque snarled, his fangs protruding. The air around him crackled with the electricity of a barely restrained change.
Konstantin bared his fangs right back, nearly nose to nose with the supe. Cyriaque was bulkier with muscle, but Konstantin was taller—and much, much older. “This test ends now.”
“Stand down, Commander.” Cyriaque growled. “Or I will have you removed from duty.”
“You’ve gone too far. This isn’t what Signe meant.”
Cyriaque shoved Konstantin back, off of him. His chest heaved, his eyes dark with the threat of violence. “I’m the Director of this organization. It’s my call. This test is designed to ensure she is loyal to us and can withstand the psychological pressures that she would face as a Phantom.”
“Her dad just died. She shouldn’t have to go through this. Vizol would be turning over in his grave at this bullshit.”
Cyriaque bared his teeth. “Don’t lecture me on what Vizol would or wouldn’t have wanted. I knew him longer than you. What Vizol would want is for us to be sure that his daughter can handle the job. Coddling her won’t do her any favors.”
The sound of a scream ripped through the array of computer monitors. Konstantin risked a glance. Kiki’s elbows were braced on the desk, her hands covering her mouth.
“This is what you call coddling her? Sending the mara to rip apart her mind?”
“Anyone can fight, Konstantin. Anyone can follow orders. We need more from her. We need her to be able to think her way out of an impossible situation. To face the worst and not break.”
Konstantin let out a low growl, wishing he didn’t see a sort of horrible sense in what Cyriaque was saying. The voice inside of him still wanted to strike out at the Director for what he was doing—put a stop to Zariya’s suffering. Some part of him cared far too much.
He shoved that part down.
“I told the mara to be gentle. She’s not going to turn it up to ten in there.”
“Does that monster know the meaning of the word ‘gentle’?” Konstantin muttered.
“Director,” Kiki said. “Something’s happening.”
Zariya’s screams had stopped. Leilani, sporting the skin of a random military-aged male, and the mara had retreated from the alcove where Zariya was chained.
“See, they’re giving her a break,” Cyriaque said.
Konstantin leaned in to examine the computer monitors. “What’s she doing?” Zariya was frantically fiddling with the chains at her wrists.
She pulled her arms free, the chains falling to the ground. “Holy shit, she’s escaping.” How had she done that?
She was slipping out of the rest of her chains now. Running to the edge of the plastic sheets that had been hung, peeking out.
“Inform Leilani that she’s escaping,” Cyriaque told Kiki, who scowled. “Now we see how she fights.”
Kiki must have followed orders because Leilani and two soldiers ran back towards Zariya. When Kiki worked communications in the Ops Center, she facilitated all communications telepathically. When she couldn’t be available, using specs based on her brain-waves, Signe and Revne had rigged a similar communications device that any user could wear to stand in for her and assist a team’s psychic communication. But it wasn’t nearly as good as Kiki herself.
Konstantin watched as Leilani and her team faced off against Zariya. He inhaled a breath in the moment they all sized each other up. And then Zariya attacked.
She was a sight to behold, her moves executed perfectly and timed flawlessly. Strike, counter, strike—she danced in and out with the grace of a ballerina.
Silence fell in the Ops Center as the three of them watched Zariya move, watched her take down one adversary. A second.
Until she and Leilani faced off. Leilani was one of the best fighters Konstantin had ever faced, but she and Zariya appeared evenly matched.
“I thought you faced her, Konstantin,” Cyriaque asked. “You didn’t say she was this good.”
“She wasn’t.” Had she been holding back when they’d sparred in the park? It hadn’t seemed like it. And why would she have? His curiosity grew. There was clearly more to Zariya Chanji than met the eye.
Zariya executed a roundhouse kick that dropped Leilani hard.
Konstantin winced.
She leaned in and pulled the gun from Leilani’s belt, standing over her. Then pointing it at her chest.
“Cyriaque—” Konstantin said.
The gun fired. Shock bloomed through him. Leilani…one of their best operators…
“They’re rubber bullets,” Cyriaque said with a shaky laugh. “They’re rubber bullets. I wouldn’t send them in with real munitions.”
Relief blasted through him like a tidal wave. Followed by anger. “This ends now, Cyriaque. Kiki, tell Zariya we’re coming for her. That she can stand down.”
Cyriaque didn’t belay his order.
He headed for the door, but Kiki’s words stopped him. “I can’t reach her.”
“What?” He turned.
“Her mental walls, they’re rock hard. I’ve never felt this from her before. I don’t know what’s going on.”
Neither did he. But somehow, Zariya had leveled up.
“Director,” Kiki said, pointing to the screen. Zariya was now darting low through the warehouse, ducking behind a tall stack of black cases. The three remaining Phantoms were standing between her and the exits. “Those cases. Don’t they contain real weapons?”
“Yes, they do.”
“What warehouse is she at?” Konstantin asked.
“Seventeen,” came Cyriaque’s flat reply.
Seventeen… “Isn’t that where we keep the Oblivion Charges?”
Cyriaque’s tanned face had gone as white as a sheet. “Konstantin, get the hell in there. Now. Before she blows herself and our
team off the face of the Earth.”
16
The fight sang in my veins, a siren song of violence and vengeance. Dad’s memories had shown me how to withstand the mara’s nightmares, how to pick the lock on my chains.
When the black-clad men had come at me, I’d given my body over to his training, marveling as my limbs moved with a speed and a precision I’d only dreamed of.
If this was what it had felt like to be Dad, no wonder he’d been so supremely confident. I felt like I had fucking super powers.
I was holed up behind a tall pile of black crates. There were three more bad guys standing between me and freedom, but they appeared more afraid of me than I was of them. The mara had scuttled off as soon as the fighting began. Didn’t want to get blood on her designer pumps, perhaps.
But before I made my break for freedom, I needed a weapon. I had the pistol I’d taken off my main interrogator, but I’d be exposed getting across the open floor to the door. I needed a distraction.
I pulled one of the cases down and crouched over it, opening the top.
Lying on a bed of black foam were four round glass balls, gleaming dully. My eyes shot open. Dad recognized these. They were called Oblivion Charges. MASC had confiscated some from a terrorist group of goblins who had planned to bomb the financial markets to up the value of their gold hordes.
I guessed there were more out there, and this terrorist group had them too. A plan was coming to life in my mind. I couldn’t leave these charges here. They could be used for all manner of nefarious purposes. But the charges would level a city block. If Dad remembered correctly, I’d only have about a minute once I set the charge to get the hell out of the blast zone.
Which meant I’d need to take out the remaining tangos first. I couldn’t risk getting held up when I was making my exit. I let out a little laugh. “Tangos” equaled bad guys. Even Dad’s military lingo was rubbing off on me.
I peeked over the fort of crates and saw one of the black-clad men approaching. “Stop right there!” I shouted, leveling my pistol at him.
“Zariya Chanji,” he said. To my shock, he held up his hands. “I have a message from the Director. This was your test. You passed. You can now stand down.”
My brows drew together. What the hell was this guy talking about? I looked around—the warehouse, the chair I’d been chained to, remembering the missing but torturous mara. No way this was MASC-approved. Cyriaque wouldn’t approve something this fucked-up. Which meant this guy was playing me.
There were two doors out of here. If I could get them out of one, I could leave via the other, after I’d set the charge. I’d take the remaining three out in one blow. I licked my lips. “Fine. Each of you put your weapons down where I can see them and step outside the building. Let me have a clear path to the exit.”
The soldiers seemed to be complying. They walked slowly to the center of the warehouse and dropped their pistols in a pile. Then headed for the door.
I watched them until they were out of there, then picked up one of the charges. I examined it. Dad had never actually turned one on.
But there was a pattern of symbols on it that I recognized as runes. Which one was the trigger? And then I saw the rune Hagalaz. Destruction.
I pressed it firmly and the clear ball bloomed to life with glowing aquamarine light. It began a slow, blinking countdown. I set it back in the case.
Time to run.
I sprinted across the warehouse towards the other exit. I didn’t know how big the blast would be, but better safe than sorry. I needed to get as far away as possible. Sayonara, assholes, I thought as I burst into the afternoon sun.
And barreled right into a hard body.
I tumbled to the ground but turned my momentum into a roll, coming up on one knee, my pistol pointed.
“Konstantin?” I lowered it a few inches. There was another man standing behind him, a thin twenty-something-year old with hipster glasses and a goatee.
Konstantin held up his hands. “Zariya, put the gun down. You’re safe now.”
I sighed and set it down, some of the tension melting away. MASC had found me. I stood. “We need to get the hell out of here—now. This place is about to blow.”
Konstantin’s eyes flicked to the ground, as if listening to something. Then his eyes went wide and fixed on me. “You set one of the Oblivion Charges?”
“Yes. I couldn’t let these assholes have them. Who knows where they’d end up.”
“These assholes are us! This is a MASC facility!”
“What?” If that was true, why hadn’t I recognized it from Dad’s memories? Maybe he’d never actually been here.
“Leilani is still in there,” the hipster guy said.
“Fuck!” Konstantin ran straight back into the building.
“Konstantin!” My mouth opened in shock. The other man disappeared before my very eyes. What the fuck?
I let out a scream of frustration before heading back into the building after Konstantin. All the while, common sense shouted at me. He was a vampire. He might be able to withstand a massive explosion without dying. Me, little half-naga, not so much.
Inside, the guy with the glasses was standing next to the box of crates, examining the blinking charge. How the hell had he gotten here so fast? The teal glow was blinking much faster now. We didn’t have much time.
“How do you turn it off?” the guy asked.
“I don’t know.”
He shot me an exasperated look. “How did you turn it on?”
“I hit the Hagalaz rune. That one.”
“So which one says off?”
I took it from him in shaking hands, turning it around, examining the runes. “Dagaz maybe? It means happiness.”
I pressed it. The ball kept blinking. Well, I supposed just because I thought not dying equated to happiness didn’t mean the maker of these charges agreed.
Konstantin appeared with an unconscious female form slung over his shoulder. “What are we doing here?”
“Trying to not die!” I cried.
“If this goes off by these other charges, it will set off a chain reaction the size of a small nuclear reaction,” goatee guy said.
“Who the fuck even are you?” I snapped at him.
“I’m Enigma, MASC’s only teleporting warlock. And the one who will get you the fuck out of here if we can’t figure this out.”
Teleporting warlock? “Then why don’t you teleport this glowy ball of death out of here and drop it in the ocean somewhere?” The charge was blinking even faster now. Tension climbed up my spine. I could feel our time running out.
Konstantin and Enigma looked at each other in surprise. Then Enigma grabbed the charge from me and disappeared.
He reappeared a moment later. His hair was wild, his glasses askew. He straightened the frames and cleared his throat. “Yeah, that was fucking close. Tell the Director I’m putting in for hazard pay.”
“Tell him yourself,” Konstantin barked. “If I see him anytime soon, I’m likely to rip his fucking throat out.”
I staggered against the wall, my knees going weak as the adrenaline drained from me. I slid down to a seat on the cold floor, my face in my hands.
Konstantin transferred the unconscious woman to Enigma, who staggered a bit under her weight. “Take her to Oliver, will you?”
Enigma disappeared without a word.
Konstantin sat down beside me, his forearms resting on his knees, his head tipped back against the wall.
For a moment, we sat in silence.
“So those guys were telling the truth? This really was the test? The kidnapping? The torture? The highly deadly magical charges?” How could Cyriaque have done this to me? How could Konstantin? How could I trust any of them to be my teammates after they’d lied to me and then put me through hell like this? Was I supposed to want to be part of an organization that treated its own people like this?
“The Oblivion Charges weren’t supposed to be part of it. That was your little improvi
sation.”
“What was I supposed to think—”
“You did good, Chanji,” he said, interrupting me.
His praise swept through me like warm sunshine, which just pissed me off even more. I didn’t want to crave his approval. “This was fucked-up.”
“I know.” He took a breath and then let it out slowly. As if he wanted to say more but was restraining himself. “It’s not what we’re about. This.” He gestured to the warehouse. “Veil Force is a family.” He took my branded hand and swooped a thumb across my palm, sending a delicious shiver through me. “A family you belong with. I hope you give us a chance to prove that to you.”
And as angry and hurt as I was, I knew I wanted to give him that chance. Not just because I’d be able to do good at MASC and find out who’d really killed Dad. Not just because I longed to be part of the secret life my friends had built.
But because if I was being honest with myself, part of me wanted to know more of Konstantin Bauer.
It was the one reason that should keep me far away. And it was the one I knew I’d give in to.
17
Konstantin stared at the file in his hand. It was thin, just one piece of paper. A photo of Zariya Chanji stared up at him. The newest member of Phoenix Team, if Zariya forgave them for the clusterfuck that had been her test. She’d said she needed time to think about it.
He hadn’t felt this anxious in centuries. Not facing down demon hordes or Nazi battalions. What would she decide?
He didn’t know why she disarmed him. Was it her beauty? He’d worked with plenty of attractive females. Perhaps it was that she seemed too delicate for this work—for the coarseness of his team. Could she withstand Luiz’s sullen moods, Daevin’s lewd jokes? Rex’s bitter diatribes, and him… Could she face the ghosts that haunted him? Far too delicate. His fingers traced the line of her cheekbone. Far too beautiful.
But she’d passed that test, and what was more—he’d seen a strength there. The slitted eyes that stared at him were lovely, but they were something more. They were unblinking. Unyielding.
She’d faced down unknown enemies and bested one of Veil Force’s most talented fighters. She’d confronted her own nightmares with hardly a blink. Her cool thinking had saved the situation. He was impressed.
