Amaya nodded. “I can’t entirely explain it, but I’ll admit that after everything that’s happened, I’m still in love with her. I would to anything to protect her.”

  “I don’t care about Calen that much.” Tanith smirked. “He’s just my last connection to my mother and my past. He’s my family.”

  “You blew up a building to save him,” Amaya reminded them.

  “That’s…yes…that’s true. I regret it a little. Everything he’s done…locking me away, sending you on that ridiculous riddle adventure, almost getting your friends killed, actually killing your father…” Tanith trailed off. They returned to the table, sipping their newly sweetened coffee.

  “Those riddles were something.” Amaya spoke the words as a spark lit up in her mind. She wasn’t certain it was the thing she was missing—the last link in the chain to connect all the mysteries—but it was something. A forgotten clue from what felt like a century ago. The photographs she’d found in the old Violet Embassy, hidden inside a sealed fireplace.

  “Amaya?” Tanith asked, concerned. Amaya must have been making a face like she’d seen a ghost—not Brian, more like an actually frightening ghost.

  “Do you know anything about old photographs of mass graves?” Amaya asked, trying to say this as steady as she could, but leaning forward with great interest in Tanith’s response.

  “Um…maybe?” Tanith raised their eyebrows.

  “I’d completely forgotten about them until just now. We found them in the old Violet Embassy. Calen led us to them, so he must have known they were there. He must have known what the photos meant.” Amaya realized all this as she said it.

  “When he wakes up, we can ask him, although…” Tanith paused, their pupils dilating and contracting as they thought. “My mother used to have a box of photographs. She called them her evidence that there was a catastrophic event or a Plague that wiped out a whole bunch of people who used to live in and around District City. She never let me look at them, but she said they were important to prove a tragedy had taken place to those who denied it.”

  “Mass graves seem like fairly good proof. Although, I’m sure even that wouldn’t prove that there was a Plague to some people.” Amaya shook her head. It was her turn to sigh. “I should show them to you; they’re hidden behind my dresser.”

  “Behind your…” Tanith started to repeat, then stopped. Their mouth snapped closed. They slapped their palms flat on the table so loudly, Amaya flinched. They stood up, pushing back their chair.

  “Tanith?” Amaya called their name, unsure what was happening.

  Tanith turned to look at her. Their eyes had gone completely red. Their entire eyes, not just the whites or the irises. The whole of their eyes was crimson, like fresh pools of blood.

  “What the hell?” Amaya whispered, scooting back from the table. “Tanith, are you—”

  She didn’t have time to finish before an object swished by her head, nearly clipping her ear: a knife, one of several lodged in a butcher block by the stove. As soon as she realized what it was, there was another coming at her, then another.

  Tanith stared unblinking with blood-red eyes and smiled an eerie painted smile as the knives began to fly across the room in her direction one by one.

  “You’re not Tanith,” Amaya gasped as she ducked to avoid being hit by a rogue blade. “Are you?”

  The ghoulish version of her friend didn’t speak, just flicked their wrist, and another knife came soaring across the room toward Amaya.

  This time, she managed to stop it midair, right in front of her face. She stared at the sharp point, concentrating on holding it there. She felt the push of some unseen force bearing down on it, something trying to drive the knife forward. Amaya pictured an invisible hand—a mind’s hand, gripping the handle, thrusting the knife forward. She pictured her own power as a pair of larger hands, stronger hands. With one, she gripped the wrist of her attacker, and with the other, she pried their fingers off the handle of the knife.

  The thing fell from the air and landed on the table. Amaya felt drained from the effort, heaving like she’d just run up a dozen flights of stairs.

  “Very good,” Tanith spoke in a voice that was not theirs. It was a richer, older voice. “Let’s try something else now.”

  Amaya watched in horror as the entire table levitated in the air and tipped over to come crashing down on top of her. She pictured her psychic hands over her head to catch it as she fell, and then she ran as fast as she could out of the room.

  “Amaya, you can’t run from me,” the strange voice that wasn’t Tanith said as they followed her.

  The doors along the basement hall flew open as she dashed past them.

  Clouds of tiny objects began flying out after her: soap dispensers, pencils, cotton swabs, paper notebooks. She stopped some, and others struck her like birds swooping down to peck at her head and face. A pencil lodged in the soft flesh of her forearm, and she cried out in pain. Amaya pulled it out and held the wound with one hand as she tried to will her invisible psychic hands to form a flat bubble of protection around her body—objects pelted at the outside like hail stones.

  Amaya ran until she reached the stairs, gasping for breath from the effort to sustain the shield while trying to get away.

  “How long can you last like this?” Whoever possessed Tanith called from the other end of the hall. “At what point do you give up and let me kill you?”

  ‘Promise not to let them kill you.’ Amaya had said something like that to Rin once. Right before Rin went back to face Lord Verity. Rin hadn’t wanted to use violence against Amaya’s father unless she absolutely had to; she didn’t want to live in a world where battles had to be fought and won by those who killed their enemies and survived. A world ruled by killers was an awfully cruel world, but dying here and now wouldn’t change that.

  No matter the outcome, a killer would win.

  And Amaya wasn’t going to lose.

  She drew in breath and exhaled, expanding the bubble surrounding her, then contracting it again, slowly first, then with a rapid succession, causing all the projectiles to shoot in the opposite direction. Hurtling down the hall, the wall of office supplies rained down over not-Tanith.

  Amaya stepped closer. She wasn’t running away anymore.

  “Oh, that’s much better,” Possessed-Tanith called in that chilling voice, pulling a paper clip out of their hair. “Next time, use just a little more—”

  They were cut off by a gust of wind that lifted their entire body in the air. The force twisted them around in a circle, turned them upside down, and shook them like a toy before slamming them backward into the kitchen door. A ripping sound echoed on the stone walls as Amaya’s psychic hands rapidly peeled off strips of duct tape from a roll that had been part of the attack-office supplies. With motions so fast, it seemed as if they were filmed and sped up, the tape covered Possessed-Tanith’s entire body in a massive sticky silver cocoon.

  Still upside down and stunned from the force, they tried to speak, but as soon as they opened their mouth, Amaya placed a piece of duct tape, this time with her real hands, over not-Tanith’s mouth.

  With that, Amaya collapsed against the wall opposite the prisoner. She was drenched in sweat; her chest felt heavy as she struggled to catch her breath. There was an emptiness inside her where something had been before—she knew how to replenish it.

  Amaya staggered over to them, whose eyes still glared with crimson malice. “Am I going to have to kill you? Is that how this all ends? With another sacrifice?” she asked, glaring right back. “I don’t want to do it, but if you don’t leave my friend, I think I will have to get one of those knives from the kitchen and—”

  Amaya stopped. The red color drained from Tanith’s eyes, like they were crying blood. They looked around and made a sudden noise of startled confusion at finding themselves duct-taped upside down to a door.

  “Tanith? Is that you?” Amaya asked, relief rushing through her.

  Tanith mumbled something incoherent, and Amaya ripped the strip of tape off their mouth so they could speak.

  “Ow.” Tanith scowled.

  “Sorry,” Amaya whispered, immediately starting to peel the layers of duct tape off them.

  “I blacked out, and I seem to have found myself duct taped to a door,” Tanith mused as they wriggled against their bindings. “Is this some kind of terrible prank gone wrong? Did my brother put you up to this? He loves a good prank, you know.”

  “Is that what he considers all the shit he’s put us through?” Amaya gave a nervous chuckle. “That’s really messed up.”

  “He does cruel things for his own amusement at the expense of others. Isn’t that what pranks are?” Tanith said with a small smile.

  “You have a point.” Amaya shrugged and kept peeling.

  “For real, what just—” Tanith didn’t finish. Their eyes rolled back into their head and their body went slack, their full weight straining against their duct tape restraints.

  “Tanith?” Amaya held her hand over their mouth, feeling for breath. Hot air gently pushed against her skin. “Thank god. Still breathing.”

  “Thank me,” the voice spoke behind her. The strange, unfamiliar voice that had spoken through Tanith. “It was all my doing.”

  Amaya spun around to find a woman standing behind her.

  She wore a dress with a long voluminous black skirt and a high lace collar. Her skin, eyes, and hair were all a warm shade of golden brown. She was short and curvy, and had a round face. She looked so much like Amaya, other than the texture of her hair, which she wore pressed flat, straight and pulled into a bun at the nape of her neck.

  “You know who I am, don’t you, Amaya?” the woman asked, a smile playing on her lips. Her voice was warm and deep. Her eyes sparkled. She radiated power like a queen or an empress.

  “I do,” Amaya said, her own voice high and trembling. “You’re my mother.”

  “My name is Iris Verity, High Priestess of the new Order of the Golden Dawn,” she clarified as though this facet of her identity was far more important. “Yes, I also happen to be your biological mother.”

  “What do you want from me? Why are you here?” Amaya spoke without thinking, not bothering to stifle the emotions welling up inside her—an acidic mixture of rage and fear and sadness. Her eyes filled with tears she dared not let slip down her cheeks. This woman did not seem like the kind of mother that would provide any comfort for her.

  “I wanted to see how strong you have become by providing you a little, harmless trial,” Iris explained, as though there was anything harmless about the fight that had just happened.

  “Why?” Amaya said, tilting her head back to blink away the tears. She was grateful her temples were dripping sweat; maybe that would help conceal the fact that she was crying.

  “Amaya, you are needed to serve a great purpose for us, for the Order,” Iris told her, “and for all humankind. You and your friends Tanith and Calen must travel to the lands beyond the city to be part of an important ritual.”

  Something about the woman’s voice was callous, despite the warmth. It was like she was reading a script she had memorized so long ago, she no longer needed to think about what any of the words actually meant.

  “What happens if we don’t want to?” Amaya asked coldly, looking right into those golden eyes so much like her own. “You kill us?”

  “All six of you.” Iris smiled.

  “Six?” Amaya repeated.

  “Rin, Kazuki, Alan, Tanith, Calen, and you, Amaya. You are the chosen ones who will save the world,” Iris told her. “By performing the ritual to ensure the Order is in power.”

  “I don’t think saving the Order and saving the world are the same thing,” Amaya said, narrowing her eyes and folding her arms across her chest.

  “You may not understand now, but you will in time.”

  Amaya sighed. “Okay, then. Can you wake up Tanith and Calen? Maybe help me with all this tape?”

  “No.” Iris smiled and then vanished into nothing.

  “Great, thanks,” Amaya grumbled and went back to peeling off all the duct tape.

  CHAPTER 18

  THE ONE WHERE KAZUKI LIES

  (Saturday, 5 P.M.)

  Kazuki lay flat on his back, the bare floorboards offering less comfort than the ground he’d been sleeping on the last few days. He stared at the vast collection of cobwebs decorating the ceiling beams overhead. Alan was sprawled out beside him, quietly observing their new surroundings, while Rin paced back and forth between the ladder and the bathroom door.

  They’d all taken turns washing the grime of grave dirt from the burial mound off their bodies and out of their hair. Kazuki had stood in the shower, feeling hot water flowing over him until his skin was red. He still felt dirty. Some stains never wash off.

  “James wasn’t a bad person,” Kazuki kept muttering to himself. He closed his eyes now and said this once more, like an incantation. “James wasn’t a—”

  “He wasn’t,” Alan whispered in his ear, clasping his hand tightly.

  “He was just part of an evil organization that killed a whole bunch of people who are holding us hostage until we do the same thing,” Rin chimed in as she stepped around them in her ceaseless walking back and forth. “At least they seem to have good fashion sense.”

  Alan snorted. Kazuki tried to lift the corners of his lips in a smile, but his muscles were stiff and heavy.

  The only thing in the room other than the industrious spiders were three garment bags. Inside these were custom-tailored suits for each of them. Kazuki’s collared shirt, jacket, and pants fit perfectly. Everyone’s fit perfectly. Every stich of the suits done in a rich, glossy black. There were even a pair of oxford shoes in the bag for each of them. If it hadn’t been so eerie that the Order had somehow known their exact measurements ahead of time, he was sure Rin and Alan would be begging him to break out the Polaroid to capture how dapper they all looked.

  “What are we going to do?” Kazuki asked, his voice strained. Part of him wanted to curl up in a ball and weep, while another part of him wanted to set the whole world on fire—not that he could do that at the moment. He felt the power churning under his skin, but there was a barrier preventing him from accessing it.

  “Escape, obviously. Soon as they let us out,” Rin said. “I’m not creating another mini-apocalypse so some scammers can run their psycho health spa. What about you guys?”

  “I’ll pass,” Kazuki replied flatly.

  “Obviously not going to do that, but…I think maybe we should hold out for a bit,” Alan suggested. “I think James is still on our side. Maybe he worked for the Order once, but I think he’s planning to double-cross them. I think he’s trying to help us get back.”

  Rin paused in her pacing to consider it before resuming her trek. How she could continue moving at all after all the days they’d spent walking through the woods, Kazuki had no clue. His legs and feet ached just watching her.

  “I still think trying to escape couldn’t hurt,” Alan said. “Well, I mean, it could very much hurt. You know, but it’s worth a shot. Hopefully not an actual shot; I don’t want to get shot. You know what I mean. What do you think, babe?”

  Kazuki sighed. “I guess. We don’t really have much to lose at this point.”

  “How long do you think we have to plot something?” Rin wondered. “I want to make sure we have a really well-thought-out escape plan.”

  “Really?” Kazuki smirked. “That would be a first for you, Rin. Thinking something through for once? What’s the world coming to?”

  “Kazu,” Alan scolded, but his expression betrayed amusement at the comment. “Don’t be rude. Rin is extremely detail-oriented now. It’s called character development.”

  “Seriously, thanks a lot. Your support means everything to me right now,” Rin said, rolling her eyes. “Anyway, you can actually contribute to the escape plan, or are you just going to take petty jabs at me all night to make yourself feel better?”

  “It does make me feel a lot better to tease you,” Kazuki said, propping himself up on his elbows to take in her reaction. Alan snort-laughed, burying his face in Kazuki’s chest to stifle the sound.

  “Glad I’m good for something, at least,” Rin groaned with exaggerated annoyance and kept pacing.

  “We could create a distraction,” Alan suggested, changing the subject. “Say they have some kind of guards or someone to shuffle us off to this dinner thing tonight. One of us can do something to draw the attention away while the others run.”

  “That’s an old trick, but it might work.” Rin sighed, her eyes narrowing as she considered the idea. “What kind of distraction would work the best?”

  “Rin, what about your combat training? We might not have our powers, but…can’t you still just bash some heads, slit some throats, and call it a day?” Kazuki asked.

  “That would be pretty distracting,” Alan said nodding in agreement of the suggestion.

  “They’ll be expecting that,” Rin countered and shook her head. She stopped pacing and leaned against the wall, folding her arms across her chest, staring at the floor. She looked like a secret agent on a dangerous mission, all dressed up and scowling like that. “Besides, you saw what happened with Minerva. What if whoever is taking us to the dinner can heal their wounds instantly without batting an…an eye?”

  Kazuki cringed, remembering the sight of Minerva with the knife sticking out of her eye socket.

  “So, we do something unexpected,” Alan said, standing up and brushing off his suit pants.

  He was effortlessly handsome in that suit. Kazuki kept stealing glances at him while they were dressing. Alan didn’t seem to mind—he was doing the same thing to him. If they were going to be forced to play dress up for captors that wanted to be part of a murderous scheme, they might as well get some enjoyment out of it. Even if both of them felt way too terrible to do much more than lie down next to each other and hold hands for the rest of their doomed little lives.

  “Like what?” Kazuki asked, dragging himself to his feet, running a hand through his hair and whispering in a mock sultry voice. “Like…seduce them?”

 

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