The Dark Fable, page 24
She was afraid of Ciaran Argent.
Their Greek hosts departed, leaving the Dark Fable seated around the fire, generously bestowing upon them blankets and a cooler packed with snacks and beer. Ciaran was sprawled on the temple steps, staring out at the ocean. Queenie sat beside him, a beer bottle dangling between her fingers. Evie understood the somber mood. Queenie, Dev, and Mad had managed to polish themselves up, but they also had wounds, and their smiles vanished the moment the taillights from Christos’s Vespa disappeared up the road.
All Evie wanted was to sleep on the beach beneath the sky scattered with constellations, beside the ocean, near an ancient temple strewn with the remnants of old gods. She was still in shock from Ciaran’s revelation, not certain if his mutiny was a good circumstance or a bad one, considering her own scheme. She recalibrated in ten minutes, realizing with stomach-churning unease what she would have to do. If she could get him to help her find her siblings before he declared war on Silence and Night, she might just pull this off.
Unless he told the others. And they hated her. And she lost them. Terror snapped through her. What would she be without the Dark Fable?
The ancient jar that might have belonged to a demigoddess seemed to hum in the rucksack, as if singing. Or maybe she was imagining it. She opened the rucksack and peered in, saw the reflection of her left eye on the jar’s obsidian surface. A slithering tendril of darkness curled from her reflection’s brow, opening its mouth to reveal tiny fangs.
“Evie.”
She snapped the rucksack shut as Mad crouched beside her and said, “Can I see it?”
“Don’t look at the jar’s surface.” Evie handed the object to her, watched as Mad held it so that the jar wouldn’t catch her reflection.
“It’s so small to be so dangerous,” Mad whispered. “It’s like it’s singing.” She handed the jar back to Evie. A laceration on her cheek had been neatly stitched up by Queenie.
Evie turned the jar and inadvertently faced its reflective surface toward Mad. She looked up to see Mad frozen, staring at her reflection as if what she saw horrified her. A worm of blood trickled from her left nostril.
“Mad . . .” Evie shoved the jar into the rucksack. “Are you okay?”
Mad wiped absently at her nose. “Don’t worry about it.” She rose and walked away to gaze out over the ocean.
“We’re really going to sleep here?” Queenie moved down the temple steps, looking like a fallen monarch in her torn gown of burgundy silk.
“I think it’s nice.” Dev lay back in the sand, one tattooed arm over his eyes.
“How did that guy—Lycan—blink into existence?” Queenie demanded. “Aren’t any of you worried about that?”
Mad spoke, her back turned to them. “He was a Traveler.”
Evie told them, “A girl showed up when I was running out of the arena. She told me she was a new Tsar—she tried to get the jar. She did something weird with electricity.”
“What happened?” Dev sat up, arms draped over his drawnup knees.
“I knocked her out.”
“You didn’t kill her, then.” Bitterness rooted in Dev’s voice. “Good for you.”
“Dev. Lycan had a gun pushed against my head.” Queenie crouched beside Dev and laid a hand on one of his knees. “You did what needed to be done.”
“You see a pattern yet?” Ciaran spoke. “Nara’s newest recruit could see through Evie’s veil at the Plaza La Mer. Lycan of the Fenrir was a Traveler. The Sirens mutinied after receiving their newest recruit. And three of those crews lost members this year. Through accidents.” He leaned forward. “Silence and Night have found others like us—and set them in separate crews.”
Dev’s voice was edged with anger. “They’re replacing us.”
Ciaran was painted by firelight and shadow. “We used to be Mother and Father’s favorites. But they have crews they can control. Who aren’t a threat.”
“And each of those crews now has someone like us,” Queenie grimly stated.
Evie hated this. Hated that, now, Ciaran’s scheming would help her. “That’s why Circe and the Sirens mutinied—they found someone like us in their midst.” She waited for Ciaran to mention the graveyard in the desert.
Ciaran lifted his head. “Silence and Night knew that Vero and Jason were planning to leave. I don’t think Vero’s murder was accidental. I think Mother and Father set Jason and Vero up on that strike with one of their Collectors, to be killed.”
A stricken silence followed this revelation.
Mad’s face was sharp and feral. “What are we going to do?”
Ciaran rose and walked toward them. “The jar and the book are the keys to the Kingdom. That’s why Silence and Night kept them from the Collectors. Silence and Night aren’t new to this game. Who knows what relics previous Father Silences and Mother Nights have found and stashed in that vault beneath Paris? The vault Mother and Father don’t have the key to because they murdered their predecessors. If we let them keep the Bestiarum Vocabulum, hand over the Anesidora Pithos . . .”
“They’ll have nukes,” Evie finished, “to use against us.”
“How are we going to exist if Silence and Night have been trying to end us?” Queenie asked with sharp anger and a little panic. “If they want us out of the game, we need to vanish.”
“No.” Ciaran told them. “We need to take their kingdom away from them. We are going to steal back the book—and the jar after we’ve given it to them. Silence has the Bestiarum in his house in Ireland. Night will spirit Pandora’s jar to her house in France. I can track them with my blood.”
Mad spoke quietly. “You want to kill Mother and Father.”
“We’ll blame Nara and Fenrir, who are ambitious enough.” Ciaran hunkered down and cast his arsenic gaze over all of them. Evie felt a sense of finality, as if she’d fallen into a well and her last handhold had slipped. If they failed, Silence and Night would come after them with all their resources.
“Divide and conquer.” Queenie tucked her hair behind her ears, probably to disguise her shaking hands.
Dev shook his head. His eyes were wide, tawny gold. “I don’t know how we can pull this off.”
Even Mad looked doubtful.
Evie exchanged a look with Ciaran—they were losing support for a mutiny that would save their lives—and her brother and sister. They all needed to be on board for Ciaran’s brutal strategy. She said, carefully, “Jason Ra showed me a place in the desert where Silence and Night have buried people they’ve killed. And the last victim was Matthew Orion, the Siren.”
Queenie swore. Dev groaned. Mad flung a look at Ciaran, one of betrayal. She whispered, “You know about that, Ciar?”
“Yeah.” He didn’t defend it. “I knew. And it’s why I’ve been planning to get us out.”
“We should just run,” Queenie said, serious.
“We can’t do that.” Ciaran’s gaze settled on Evie. “Tell them why, blackbird.”
She stared at him.
“Go on, Evie,” he coaxed, his beauty a mask over the cold, calculating darkness within. “Tell them how you schemed to get into La Fable Sombre. How you found the Queen Cobra in your parents’ possessions and donated it as a lure. For us. Because someone told you your parents were in the last incarnation of La Fable Sombre and Silence and Night killed them. You held vigil at the petrol station at Silver Cove’s highway entrance to keep an eye out for us. Took a stint at the country club full of wealthy targets, just in case we were tempted. Got another job as a caterer at the Plaza La Mer to lie in wait for us to grab that necklace. All for revenge.”
Evie knew what he was doing as everyone looked at her—she saw hurt, astonishment, anger.
“Evie?” Mad sounded small and crushed.
Queenie regarded Evie with disdain. “I knew it. All those charming little chats with us . . . to learn about us, use our stories against us.”
“No . . . I mean . . . yes, at first. But,” Evie pleaded, “things changed.”
“Tell us why.” Dev sat up straight. He was all edges now, the soulful charmer armored in thorns, as if betrayal was something that might rip out his heart. He looked ready to snarl. “I’m sure you’ve a good reason for using us.”
Mad gazed sorrowfully at Evie. “Your parents . . . Silence and Night—”
“Silence and Night murdered my parents and stole my little brother and sister.” The secret and cruel hope she’d carried for so many years—that her siblings had been spirited away by a monster in human skin, yet had survived—spilled out like jewels and blood, beautiful and gruesome. “Jason’s been looking for two missing kids that I hired his mentor to find a couple years back.” She dropped her gaze to her hands, clenching and unclenching them. “He traced them to Silence and Night.”
“You were using us to get closer to Silence and Night.” Queenie stared at her. “Like we’re nothing to you.”
“I’m sorry,” Evie whispered.
“Just a means to an end,” Dev said, somber. “That all we were?”
Tears pricked Evie’s eyes. “In the beginning. Not anymore.” She knew they had only each other, La Fable Sombre; that her betrayal might be unforgiveable. If she lost them, she lost herself, not just the opportunity to locate Juliet and Ezra.
Dev gazed up at the sky. “I imagine your brother and sister don’t recall much of their lives before . . . what happened.”
“They were raised by two monsters from a fairy tale.” Mad bowed her head, honey-gold hair veiling her face. “What if they don’t remember you, Evie? How old were they when they were taken?”
“Six and four.” Evie watched all of them, scarcely daring to hope. It would be a miracle if they didn’t toss her out or abandon her for her deception.
But Ciaran had told them the truth for a reason. He had a strategy. “Evie is still one of us. Family. So, her brother and sister are family.”
Queenie looked at Ciaran. “How many of us do you think Silence and Night have murdered?”
“As many as they needed to.” Ciaran’s voice sliced the air.
Mad sat very still. “How could we have just not known? What they were like?”
Evie figured Mad saw what she wanted to see.
Dev clasped one of Evie’s hands, lacing his fingers with hers. “So, we break into Silence and Night’s homes. Retrieve the book and the jar. Rescue Evie’s siblings. Then what?”
“We’ll come up with a plan back home.” Ciaran met Evie’s gaze across the flames. “We’ll all get what we want.”
I’ll get Ezra and Juliet, Evie thought. And you’ll get the Kingdom. She looked at Dev, Mad, and Queenie. Fiercely and silently, she promised, I will always take care of you. I will always love you.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Poison
The next evening, Evie, Mad, Queenie, and Dev gathered to plot Mother Night and Father Silence’s downfall. They sat on the floor in the main room of the lair, waiting for Ciaran. Mad’s manic pixie dream girl persona had vanished, replaced by the wolf-eyed criminal who spoke ruthlessly. “Mother and Father have betrayed us—even more so than Evie. The evidence is damning—Evie saw Silence murder her parents. It’s pretty obvious the two kids they have are her brother and sister. Vero and Jason, who were going to leave us, had a strike that ended with Vero dying. There’s a freaking graveyard in the desert that we can all be sure isn’t for those of us who’ve died of old age. And then there are the ringers with abilities planted in each crew.”
“There is nothing circumstantial about any of that.” Queenie’s mouth twisted with bitterness.
“Are we really doing this?” Dev’s tawny eyes flashed gold as he bowed his head. “I just think about how Mother loved to cook for us, how she taught me to waltz . . .” His voice softened. “How Father showed me how to box like a gentleman.”
Queenie tugged at her hair. “Night got me my first Louboutins. She taught me French. She’s the coolest person I know—well, aside from my grandparents. Silence gave me a first-edition copy of Isaac Newton’s Principia Mathematica, helped me get money to my hometown, lay the groundwork for a STEM school . . . How are we going to do this?” she whispered, her voice breaking.
“Mother Night took me to get fitted for my first Versace gown.” The ache in Mad’s voice made Evie bite her lip. “Father Silence gave me my first switchblade, shaped like an owl. Night told me stories when I got sick last winter. Silence bought me the Aston Martin for my eighteenth birthday because he was proud of me.” She looked up, her gaze fierce. “It’s us or them. Don’t think of them as our parents, don’t you dare. They gave us things. Not love. It was all hollow. Just to control us.”
They all stared at Mad, who was not typically a beacon of self-awareness.
Evie spoke with steely resolve. “I’ll kill Night when the time comes. It isn’t your vendetta. It’s mine—”
“Eves . . .” Mad was staring at something over Evie’s shoulder. The back of Evie’s neck prickled, as if a door had opened onto a cold violet place with no sunlight. She stood, turning.
Like a moon god from an eclipse, Jason Ra, in a hooded coat, stepped from a silver-and-black pentacle. The immense shadow of something horned, equine, and vicious pooled before him.
Dev stood, an edge in his voice. “What are you doing here, mate?”
“Hey, Jase,” Mad greeted, her golden hair swirling. “Glad you could join us.”
“Why is he here?” Queenie was wary.
“Jase is going to help.” Ciaran strolled into the room. “Nice to see you, bruv.”
“Once this is done”—Jason spoke in a low voice—“we are done.”
“Sure, Jase. That a promise?” Ciaran flashed a smile.
Jason didn’t reply, his gaze flicking to Evie.
“I just need you to get them out,” Evie told Jason. “Ezra and Juliet. Just get them to safety.”
“You’ll need to make sure they’re outside.” Jason looked at Ciaran. “We won’t be able to use our powers in Silence and Night’s homes—they’ll have wards or protections, whatever they utilize at the Palm and the Lotus, on all the doors and windows.”
“Malachite?” Evie asked. “Holy objects?”
Jason shook his head. “That would affect them too. Whatever they use to keep us out, it won’t be something that dilutes their abilities.”
“We’re more than our tricks, Jase.” Ciaran nodded to Evie. “So, you take her brother and sister somewhere safe while we do what we do best.”
“Steal.” Jason was watching Evie, who wouldn’t look at him. “What else?”
“What do you think?” Ciaran’s amiable demeanor didn’t falter. “What do you think we have to do? You saw the graveyard in the desert.”
Jason took a step toward Evie. “Evie . . .”
Mad slid in front of him, setting one hand on his chest, and Evie could almost imagine Mad leading Jason by his tie onto a dance floor in some nightclub. Mad said, “Jason. You want to help? Don’t be a Galahad. Be your old self.”
Jason didn’t drop his gaze from Evie’s. Beyond him, Ciaran watched, no longer smiling.
Evie swept a look over all of them. The ancient darkness nesting within her saw their fidgeting, uncertainty, and arrogance—with the exception of Jason, who stood among them like an icy beacon. And Ciaran, whose gaze settled upon Evie as if he were sizing up some nettlesome element.
“Fine.” Jason’s voice bit the air as he drew back. “Tell me my part and I’ll do it.” And we’ll deal with the fallout later were the words he left unsaid.
“Right, then.” Ciaran walked to the table and began sliding diagrams and illustrations from the envelope he carried. “Gather round, children, and let’s plot two blind strikes in one night.”
Evie walked toward Ciaran, avoiding Jason, but searingly aware of his anger. Ciaran had gotten another thing he’d wanted: Jason back.
Ciaran said, “Winter holiday ends in a week. Silence and Night will have Evie’s siblings at their separate homes in Ireland and France. Our time is growing short as well—Silence and Night plan to end us and let our substitutes work with separate crews. No more LFS. Also, while they’ve the Bestiarum and the jar, it’s now or never that we can scarper them.” He cast a glance around the table. “First, as Jason said, it’s a guarantee the doors and windows will be warded, so our tricks won’t work inside.”
“So, we do it the old-fashioned way,” Jason told them. “With one trick.”
“Your blood on those objects.” Evie looked at Ciaran. “It’ll lead us into the houses. But how do you use a Door if the houses are warded? And if you’ve never seen them before?”
Ciaran and Jason exchanged a look, and Evie realized how: “Jason will amplify your ability. And you’ve been to their houses before.”
“That’s right.” Ciaran tapped the sketch of a general floor plan. “Silence’s house will be first. We should end up in the same room as the Bestiarum. We nick the book. Separate. Search for your brother.”
“And Silence,” Mad said solemnly.
“I won’t be a party to murder,” Jason told them with a dark look at Ciaran.
“No problem, bruv. You won’t have anything to do with it. You and Evie go looking for little brother.”
Jason glanced at Evie, pleading.
“Jason.” It was Dev who spoke in a calm, hard voice. “If we don’t do this terrible deed—tell us Silence and Night won’t come after us once we screw them over.”
Jason told them: “I can’t tell you that.”
“Jase,” Ciaran said gently. “I’ll be taking care of Silence. Then, we open a Door to retrieve Pandora’s jar from Night’s house in France. Once we have the jar, we separate to find Evie’s sis.”
“Ezra’ll be with us?” Evie was doubtful.
“Yeah, we’ll have to protect the kid, so . . . who ends Mother Night?” Queenie’s voice was taut.
“I do.” Mad jutted her chin, her eyes wide.
“No.” Although Evie was terrified of Silence and Night—they all were, with the exception of Ciaran—she couldn’t let Mad commit murder. “I do.”
