Bound by Blood, page 6
Seeing Dad’s polo on this beautiful boy who made my chest feel like mush was so conflicting that I had to look away. My shallow breaths shook me, my hands trembling as I accepted a piece of toast from Kismet. I felt Oliver’s eyes on me and knew he must’ve felt my strange array of emotions through our blood oath.
“Hope it’s okay I gave him your dad’s clothes,” Kismet said in a low voice, though I was sure Oliver could hear. “I didn’t have anything else to offer him.”
I swallowed. “What about that dark warlock you’re engaged to? Surely he’d have spare clothes lying around.”
Kismet’s head reared back, her eyes tightening and her lips pressing together. I took a bite of my toast, staring determinedly at the counter in front of me.
I heard Kismet inhale, probably to explain her fiancé was just a farce for John Dickers’s sake, when a high-pitched twittering sound interrupted her.
I stiffened, eyes wide as I gazed around the room to look for the source of the noise. It sounded like a dozen birds chirping, but the rhythm of their twittering was too precise and repetitive to belong to real birds.
“Damn,” Kismet muttered, setting down her toast. “They’re faster than I thought.”
“What is that?” I asked, scrunching my face in distaste. My ears throbbed from the shrill sounds.
“Wards,” Kismet said. “They warn me when unwanted visitors approach. Come on, we’re out of time.”
CHAPTER 7
Kismet darted out of the kitchen. After exchanging a look, Oliver and I followed and found her packing a bag in the living room. Slinging the bag over her shoulder, she hurried past us toward the back window. Sunlight streamed through, peeking over the tops of adjacent buildings and casting a warm glow on the bookshelves along the opposite side of the room.
More high-pitched twittering echoed in the apartment, increasing in intensity. I resisted the urge to cover my ears.
“Do you think it’s the Council?” Oliver asked.
“Undoubtedly,” Kismet said as she eased open the window. A cool breeze hissed into the room. “I thought it would’ve taken them longer to find me. Sorry for the hasty exit.” She swung one leg over the windowsill and shimmied through the window. Oliver and I followed suit. I rubbed my arms against the morning chill as we climbed onto the fire escape. I gripped the metal railings, my arms trembling with every step down the ladder. My heart thudded with each panicked breath I took. A deep inhale sent a sharp slice of cool air into my lungs. It was way too cold outside. What month was it anyway? This felt like winter in Santiago—maybe even colder. But in New York? It could very well be fall.
Focus, Desi. I hastened my descent down the ladder, peering briefly over the edge toward the dumpsters waiting at the bottom. Good thing I’m not afraid of heights.
I glanced at Oliver behind me, but he kept up with our pace. The chirping from Kismet’s apartment echoed in the air around us until suddenly, it stopped.
We froze, glancing up toward the suspicious silence.
“They’ve made it inside,” Kismet whispered. “Come on, we can’t be here when they look out the window.”
Metal creaked as we hastily shuffled down the steps. Almost there. Almost there. Only one more ladder.
Magic tickled my nose. “Duck!” I shrieked.
The three of us dropped to the metal floor. Just above us, the fire escape groaned ominously.
“Move!” Kismet shouted.
We scurried out of the way. A huge metal panel smashed to the floor where we’d stood.
I glanced upward, squinting, and saw a figure leaning over the railing of the fire escape. I expected it to be that gargoyle, Damien, but this one looked human. He stretched his hands toward us again. The surrounding metal shifted in response.
A Pusher. Like me. Though my heart raced a mile a minute, the adrenaline of facing an enemy sent waves of exhilaration through me.
I inhaled and stretched my hands skyward toward our assailant. Magic churned through my body, spinning, circling, and gaining momentum. I closed one eye like I was looking through the scope of a rifle. Zeroing in on my target, I aimed carefully and Pushed him.
His yelp pierced the air as my magic blasted him backward. Glass shattered, but I didn’t wait to see if he’d get back up again. Kismet offered a half-smirk, and Oliver raised his eyebrows, clearly impressed.
At long last, we dropped to the bottom of the fire escape, and Kismet ushered us down the alley and around the back of the building. The sounds of traffic grated against my ears—horns blaring, cars whooshing past, and footsteps shuffling. I strained to hear shouts or smell the tingle of magic in the air. But the scents of downtown New York were too strong and confusing for me to hone in on anything magical.
Oliver and I followed Kismet, weaving between alleys and buildings. The traffic sounds faded until I only heard our quick footfalls and faint music pumping from a nearby apartment. Excitement churned within me like my magic had just gotten warmed up. I glanced over my shoulder, but no one followed us. My disappointment startled me. Shouldn’t that be a good thing?
Eventually, we emerged into a narrow alley where a lone taxicab was parked. I froze, my skin crawling with suspicion, but Kismet said, “It’s okay, he’s with me.”
She sounds like a government spy, I thought, squashing down my apprehension as we all piled in the backseat of the cab.
The driver glanced at us from underneath a red baseball cap. Kismet slid him a wad of cash and said, “You know where to go.”
The driver nodded wordlessly and shifted into reverse to back out of the alley. He snaked down side roads, working his way expertly back onto the main road. The cab bumped over potholes and uneven pavement.
“What’s with the cloak and dagger, Agent Harrington?” I asked.
Kismet shushed me, but her eyes crinkled, and her lips twitched.
After twenty minutes, the cab pulled up to an abandoned mall. The parking lot was empty and riddled with cracks, through which weeds burst through freely. A garage-like metal door blocked the entrance to what had once been a department store.
I frowned at Kismet, but she muttered something inaudible to the driver before sliding out of the car. Oliver and I followed suit.
The cab drove off, and Kismet approached the sealed off store entrance. I pressed my lips together, shoving my questions aside, and followed her.
Kismet approached the shiny, silver door and pressed her palm to it. The surface rippled, and a blue glow emanated from her fingertips. I was reminded of when Elena had first led me to the magical realm in Santiago—she’d done something similar with the red door that served as a portal.
Lilith, I miss her.
I squashed the ache down. The metal door cranked and slid open, rising higher and bathing the dark store in a bright light.
Kismet entered, and Oliver and I followed. As soon as we crossed the threshold, the door slid shut, plunging us into darkness.
I blinked, my eyes adjusting and my heart racing. I raised my hands, but I couldn’t Push an enemy I couldn’t see.
“State your name and personnel number,” a deep voice rumbled from the darkness.
“Kismet Harrington,” Kismet said, her voice loud. “3427.”
Fluorescent lights from the ceiling switched on, and I winced. After blinking several times, I gazed around the store, my mouth falling open.
Instead of mannequins and racks of clothes, we stood in a warehouse-sized bunker. Cots and bunk beds lined the walls, and in the middle of the room stood a crowd of people, all of them wielding weapons. Some were dressed in rags, and others wore business casual attire. I counted twenty individuals, and each one stared at Kismet with recognition in their eyes.
The man in front had short, black hair, brown skin, and a neatly trimmed goatee. He sighed with relief and lowered his athame. He strode toward Kismet, his long legs closing the distance between them in three steps before he embraced her.
“Thank Lilith,” the man said. His deep voice told me he was the one who spoke earlier. “When you didn’t check in, we feared the worst.”
“I couldn’t risk it,” Kismet said, patting his arm and offering a half-smile. She gestured to me and Oliver. “This is Desi and Oliver. They’re interested in joining the cause.”
My heart thundered at her words, but I kept my face neutral as I looked at the man with interest.
“Teddy Meeks,” the man said to us, grinning widely. “A pleasure.” His gaze shifted back to Kismet. “Are you staying?”
Kismet nodded. “My home has been breached. Do you have the space?”
Teddy laughed, a booming sound that filled the room, and gestured wide with his hands. “Of course! Stay as long as you like.”
Kismet pulled Teddy’s arm, bringing him closer, and whispered, “Have you seen him?”
Teddy’s smile vanished. Slowly, he shook his head. “He hasn’t returned or sent word yet.”
Kismet pressed her lips together and nodded. Her blue eyes flicked to me and Oliver and then back to Teddy.
I rubbed my arms and looked at the crowd behind Teddy, trying to find a common denominator among these enthusiasts for whatever cause Kismet referred to. But they seemed to have nothing in common. Some were old with graying or white hair. Others were as young as Oliver and me. Some looked wealthy, judging by their designer clothes, but others seemed borderline homeless. Were all these people here to stop Matthias? And why weren’t they able to sleep in their own homes?
Kismet jerked her head toward the cots and bunk beds, and we followed her across the room past the crowd. Kismet nodded and waved to a few people. I wasn’t sure how to respond, so I averted my gaze. But I still felt their curious eyes on me as we passed.
Kismet set her bag down in front of a bunk bed with clean, undisturbed sheets. Oliver claimed a cot near the bunks and sat down, resting his head against the wall.
“So, uh, no privacy?” I asked, raising my eyebrows at Kismet.
“There are other shops you can go to for bathing and other needs,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. “It’s not perfect, but it’s safe.”
“Safe from what?” I asked.
Kismet fixed me with a hard stare. “Don’t be dense, Desi.”
My face slackened. “Matthias? Is it really that bad? Bad enough for these people not to be safe in their own homes?”
“Yes, it is that bad,” Kismet said sharply. “Why do you think I summoned you? We need you, Desi. War is coming.”
A lump rose in my throat, and I crossed my arms to hide my shaky hands. “What can I do? I’ve faced Matthias before, and I’m no match for him. Not even close.”
Kismet touched my arm. “You won’t be alone, Desi. We need all the numbers we can get. Look around.” She gestured toward the dispersing crowd; some ventured toward the beds, and others drifted toward the exit that led to the rest of the shops within the mall. Some sat in camp chairs and chatted animatedly together, while others sat quietly to read or rest.
“See her?” Kismet said, pointing to a girl about my age with bright purple hair and piercings all over her face. “Her parents work for Matthias. She dropped out of school and ran away, looking for refuge. If we hadn’t taken her in, she probably would’ve followed in her parents’ footsteps.
“And him.” Kismet gestured to a frail old man resting in a cot, his thin wispy hair sticking up in different directions. “He used to work for the Council and was laid off when he found damning evidence of those on Matthias’s payroll.”
She pointed to a middle-aged man and woman, their heads hunched over as they whispered together. “Those two were criminals convicted of executing Matthias’s top informants.” Then, she gestured to a woman and two men dressed in suits. “And those three still work for the Council now, feeding us information whenever they can.”
“And they’re all here to bring down Matthias?” Oliver asked breathlessly. His eyes were wide and awestruck as he gazed around the room. The excitement in his face made me feel strangely empty. I wasn’t fully on board with this just yet, but it was clear he was ready to dive back into soldier mode.
Kismet nodded. “When you were a kid, Desi, only a few people believed in the threat of Matthias, and they were deemed conspiracy theorists. Like your parents. But now, people’s eyes are opening. Which only means Matthias is about to make his move. He’s lingered in the shadows for so long that when he starts to make himself known, we should all be paying attention.”
“Desi?” a voice asked.
I looked up, frowning, and found two guys about my age approaching with wide grins on their faces. They seemed vaguely familiar.
“Merciful Lilith,” I breathed, my heart jumping in my throat as I rose to my feet. “Cameron? José?”
My old friends beamed at me. Their hair was buzzed almost to their scalps, shorter than even Oliver’s hair. I hadn’t recognized them without their grungy, long hair and baggy clothes. We used to hang out and avoid our responsibilities and drink—well, they would drink. I despised alcohol. But back then, we’d been thick as thieves. It felt like ages ago.
Cameron swept me in his arms and lifted me off my feet. I yelped, clutching his shoulders for support as he spun me in a circle. When he set me down, José grabbed me and pressed a wet kiss against my lips.
I froze, stunned, my eyes wide. I sensed Oliver rising to his feet behind me, but I didn’t dare look at him. Hot jealousy rippled through our blood oath, and my stomach clenched.
“Uh, I—I can’t believe you two are here!” I said, my face on fire as I rubbed the back of my neck and took a step away from José. “Where’s Mia?” I looked behind them, searching for our dark-haired friend who always drank too much back in the day.
Their smiles vanished, and they exchanged a solemn look. “She’s, uh, in rehab,” Cameron said, rubbing his nose. “Last we heard, she’s not doing too well.”
My stomach dropped, and a sour taste filled my mouth. Mia—who’d never judged me for my past, who’d laughed with me and supported me with ballet and my decision to renounce all things magical, who’d made a mix tape of music for my dance routines—was in rehab?
“Lilith,” I whispered. “I—I’m so sorry I wasn’t here.”
José shook his head. “Don’t worry about it, bella. Kiz explained everything to us.”
I raised an eyebrow at Kismet, who shrugged. “They volunteered to join our cause. All on their own.”
I spread my arms, gaping weakly at them. “But—why? Last I saw, you two were hellbent on drinking and partying ‘til you died.”
José nudged my shoulder. “Yeah . . . ‘til you left.”
I dropped my hands. “What?”
“When you disappeared, we thought Levarret had taken you,” Cameron said, his blue eyes anxious. “We thought it was our fault. For encouraging you to come to Miami with us. We thought you’d been abducted on the road.”
“My fault,” José said, his dark brows pulling together. “I was the one who pressured you.”
“We figured we should get our act together and do something,” Cameron said. “You know, in honor of you. Then when Kismet’s curse broke, she told us about these underground rebels, and we jumped on board.”
A slow smile spread across my face. “This is amazing, guys. I’m so proud of you.”
Oliver cleared his throat loudly behind me. I glanced over my shoulder at him. His bulky arms were crossed, his eyes burning with anger as he stared at José. The tightness of his jaw sent coils of discomfort racing through me.
“This is Oliver Gerrick,” I said quickly, pointing to him. “He’s, uh, a soldier from the Spanish-American War. We met in Santiago.”
José and Cameron’s mouths fell open in wide, goofy grins. “Whoa!” José whooped. He and Cameron slapped hands, wearing equally amazed expressions.
“Dude, that’s sick,” Cameron said, stepping forward to shake Oliver’s hand. “An honor to meet you, man.”
Oliver frowned and shook his hand. “Likewise . . . I think.”
I snorted and covered my mouth.
“Oh, Desi, I almost forgot.” José stepped toward me, and I stiffened, my limbs locking up. What do I do, what do I do, what do I do? Does he still think I’m his girlfriend? I crossed my arms and leaned slightly away from him. He withdrew a pack of envelopes from his back pocket. “Kiz mentioned you’d be back soon, so I grabbed these from my abuela. They—well, she said you’d know who they’re from.”
I took the stack of letters from him, my hands trembling as I looked at my name written elegantly on each one. The handwriting was so familiar. Alba.
Heat flooded my throat. My eyes burned and blurred, distorting the letters from view. I swallowed and nodded, pressing my lips together. Slowly, I folded the letters and pocketed them, willing myself not to cry in front of everyone.
“Thank you,” I said, my voice breaking. “Thanks so much.”
Alba, Ramón, Guillermo, Elena, Sofia. Would the letters tell me of their fate? Of Alba’s child? My fingers itched to pull the letters out to read, but I didn’t want to cry in front of all these witnesses. Perhaps I could find a moment alone in one of those adjacent, empty shops.
Before I could ask Kismet where I should go for some privacy, the air surged with magic. The surrounding rebels jumped to their feet and drew their weapons.
“What’s going on?” I asked Kismet.
“Visitor,” she said quietly, drawing closer to me. “Stay silent.”
The lights shut off, and darkness surrounded us once more.
The metal door slid open, bathing us in a faint white light. A tall figure stepped forward. The door slammed shut, and Teddy said loudly, “State your name and personnel number.”
“Bayani Matapang,” a familiar voice said. “3428.”
CHAPTER 8
My limbs seized up. My blood chilled, and my mouth fell open. Tight, shallow breaths poured from my mouth. Merciful Lilith. He survived!
The lights flicked on, and Bay squinted, his face splitting into a wide grin.
I took a step, prepared to ambush him with questions, but then froze. Something was . . . different about him.
