No Promises, page 29
The illusionist reached down into what looked like empty air. She pulled something out of a container I couldn’t see. Her whole body tensed as she grasped the object—a small, featureless wooden box. She held it out ahead of her at arm’s length, like it was a bomb or some kind of biological weapon. I tightened my grip on the knife, but didn’t move yet. Seven against one, and me without my magic. I wouldn’t survive.
But what were they about to do to Vicantha?
The illusionist handed the box to one of her subordinates. The reluctant recipient drew back, and touched the box only with her fingertips. Another of the fae opened it, leaning as far back as possible as she did. She reached in and, with the tips of two fingers, pulled out something that gleamed in the moonlight.
At first, all I saw was two circles. Then my brain caught up with me. It was a set of iron cuffs, identical to the ones the false police offer had used on me.
Vicantha had been staring straight ahead, doing her best not to react. But as the fae grabbed her wrist, she turned her head in a tiny motion, just enough to catch my eye. In a motion almost too small to perceive, she jerked her head toward the exit. The message was plain. She wanted me to leave her here.
It occurred to me, then, how strange it was that they still hadn’t seen me. Vicantha had to be maintaining one last illusion, one the seventh fae hadn’t spotted yet. They hadn’t noticed me because they couldn’t see me. The logic made sense—it was better for one of us to be captured than none. And the way I had worded my promise, even her death wouldn’t free me from the obligation to follow through. No matter what happened to her, she could be certain that I would either rescue the prisoners or die in the attempt.
If she was telling me to leave, that meant she was confident that her illusion would keep me shielded long enough to get me out of the parking lot. But I only had a few seconds, at most. That had to be why she had risked drawing attention to me by looking my way. Once they snapped those cuffs around her wrists, her magic would stop working. And I would be exposed.
The fae holding the cuffs knelt behind Vicantha, her face creased in pain. She took hold of Vicantha’s wrist.
I tried to turn the keys in the ignition. My hand wouldn’t move. I tried to tell myself it was another symptom of the iron poisoning—a weakness in my hands, a slowing of my reaction times. But I knew better.
Vicantha risked another look in my direction. This one was less subtle, and more angry.
What other choice did I have but to leave? All I had to fight them with was my knife. A single knife, a weapon I hadn’t adequately practiced with in over a century, against the magic of seven trained fae agents. Yes, the knife was steel—I had made sure of it—but even so, I wouldn’t be able to disable all of them before they ripped me apart.
The fae holding the cuffs pulled Vicantha’s wrist back in slow motion. Every second became an hour.
Despite the scene playing out mere feet away from me, I didn’t feel the adrenaline of battle rushing through my veins, or the sharp, tense fear of an immediate threat to my life. My mind was clear. Clear enough to know that Vicantha’s logic made sense—if we couldn’t both make it out of this, one of us had to. Clear enough to know that if I tried to save her, knowing I would fail, I couldn’t blame it on the heat of the moment. It would be a conscious choice.
If I made that choice, I would know, once and for all, that I was the same person I had always been. I would lose all hope of ever escaping the deadly prison of my nature.
I turned the key. The engine roared to life. None of the fae reacted, but the tension went out of Vicantha’s shoulders.
I slammed the car door shut. I floored the gas and sped toward the exit—then squealed the tires in a sharp turn and plowed toward the knot of fae.
I mowed two of them down before a third threw up a stone barrier. I hit the barrier at full speed, and jerked forward, landing hard against the steering wheel. The hood crumpled. Smoke rose up from the ruined car.
Vicantha took the opportunity to take a magic-fueled leap free of the encasing pavement, half a second before the cuff could close around her wrist. I tried to follow her movement, but a spear of stone hurtling through the windshield toward me forced my attention away. I dodged just in time. The spear caught the sleeve of my coat. Fabric tore as I yanked my arm free.
The attack distracted me enough that I didn’t see the lance of fire until it hit.
I looked down at my body, expecting to see myself burning. But I didn’t see any flames. And, I realized a second later, I didn’t feel the familiar sensation of my nerves cooking and dying. But the air was growing hotter by the second, too hot even for me.
The fire attack hadn’t hit me. It had hit the car.
As soon as I realized what had happened, I opened the car door and flung myself out. A glance behind me at the car showed me the underside was already burning. I didn’t know how long I had before the whole thing exploded, but I wasn’t going to risk it.
Which, of course, had been the attacker’s intention. As soon as I left the car, the fae were waiting for me.
But before I could figure out whether to draw my weapon or make a run for it and hope for the best, a violent slash of wind drew their attention away from me. One second, they were eyeing me like a side of beef, weighing where to make the first cut. The next, they were windmilling their arms against the force propelling them inexorably toward the burning car. I was at the very edge of the wind; I could feel it, but it was easy to resist. But then, Vicantha’s attack wasn’t aimed at me.
Vicantha faded back into the shadows before they could retaliate. It looked like she had decided sticking around to make another attack wouldn’t end well for her. But she had given me an opportunity, and I wasn’t about to waste it. It was time to take a cue from her, and run. I glanced toward the woods, then toward the road. It would be easier to lose myself in the trees.
As I watched, a branch curled in a strangely human gesture, like it was beckoning to me. I had a feeling that was a summons I didn’t want to answer. Yes, Vicantha was in the woods somewhere, but she was fae. Whatever magic those trees held, I doubted it presented any threat to her. I couldn’t say the same for myself.
I looked over my shoulder toward the road. The fae would be reluctant enough to attack in full view of humans—at least I hoped so. And even if the trees were only unsettling, and not outright dangerous, I couldn’t say the same for the Faerie portal that was hidden somewhere in there. And if there was one thing all the stories of the fae had in common, it was that Faerie portals made it all too easy for the unwary to slip through to the wrong side.
Vicantha made the decision for me when she appeared at the entrance to the parking lot—apparently she hadn’t vanished into the woods after all. She ran for the entrance to the parking lot. She motioned over her shoulder toward me. With relief, I turned my back on the trees to follow her.
Behind us, the car groaned. The groan turned into a roar. That was the only warning we had before the explosion. The force sent me sprawling to the ground, but I was far enough away that the flames hadn’t reached me, and neither had any of the flying shrapnel. From the screams behind me, the fae hadn’t been so lucky.
Vicantha, ahead of me, hadn’t even been knocked down. She glanced over her shoulder. When she saw me lying facedown on the pavement, she backtracked and reached a hand out to me.
I shook my head, already struggling to my feet. “Run,” I managed to force out, although the fall had knocked the wind out of me. “I’ll catch up.” The sounds behind me told me the fae hadn’t come out of the explosion unscathed—but also that at least some of them were still alive. And Vicantha had been right earlier—better for one of us to make it out than neither of us.
“So noble.” Vicantha’s mouth twisted in a sneer. “I see the stories about you are true.”
Between one beat of my heart and the next, Vicantha stopped being Vicantha. The face above me was now that of the seventh fae, the illusionist. Her turquoise eyes sparkled.
I forced myself to my feet. I reached for my knife, even as I risked taking my eyes off the fae to scan the area for the actual Vicantha. I didn’t see her.
I raised my weapon. She smirked.
“You stink of iron,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “But at least it means your mind has no defenses left.” She leaned in to whisper in my ear. “*Sleep.*”
I tried to take advantage of her closeness to drive the knife through her heart. But my arms wouldn’t obey me. The weapon fell from nerveless fingers.
A second later, I followed it to the pavement. I was asleep before I hit the ground.
Chapter 25
There were no bright lights this time. No cold table under my back. The lighting was a soft, gentle yellow, the closest thing to candlelight that electric bulbs could create. The air was warm and humid. I drew in a long, grateful breath. I had thought I had gotten used to Hawthorne’s weather. But for the first time since I had stepped off the plane, I finally felt comfortable. I felt like I was home.
Another breath brought the scent of some sweet, exotic flower to my nose. I looked around, and found myself surrounded by plants and trees. My horticultural knowledge may have been limited, but I knew enough to tell that not all these plans were native to the same area, and I highly doubted any of them were native to Hawthorne. At first I mistook the room for a greenhouse, but then I saw the stone walls, and the single skylight overhead that showed the pink of an early dawn sky. Water burbled softly in the distance; through a tangle of showy orange flowers, I caught a glimpse of a multi-tiered fountain. Birds warbled above my head.
Belatedly, I looked down at my wrists, then my ankles. No restraints. I turned in a slow circle, and saw nothing but greenery. If this was a cage, it was a more luxurious cage than I had ever seen.
I took a step forward—and thick iron bars shimmered into being in front of me. I stopped short, half a second away from slamming directly into them. I made that slow circle again. This time, the view was very different. The rest of the room was real enough, or at least it hadn’t changed. None of the plants had disappeared. The air still felt like home. But between me and the green luxury of the room was a circle of iron bars, each wrapped in thick barbed wire.
“I wasn’t sure if it was overkill,” came a crisp and sophisticated voice from the direction of the fountain. “I know what Arkanica did to you—they did it on my orders. I admit, I didn’t expect you to survive, but now that I’ve revised my estimates, I have a reasonable idea of the side effects you’re likely experiencing. With that amount of iron lingering in your veins, you shouldn’t be a threat to anyone. But considering your reputation, I decided an overabundance of caution was better than the alternative.”
I took a step back, and the cage disappeared again. As long as I didn’t get too close to the bars, I could let myself believe I was in paradise. I stepped forward again, and breathed a sigh of relief as the bars reappeared. The truth might have been unpleasant, but lies were deadly.
“How did you hide this place in Arkanica headquarters?” I asked. Was this one of the floors I had passed on the way out of my prison? I took another glance at the skylight. Was it as false as the windows in the Arkanica hallway? The sunlight looked real enough, but I knew better than to trust it.
“I didn’t,” the voice answered. “This is my private sanctuary. I quickly found that I would need to create a taste of home for myself, if I was going to maintain my sanity while working in this world long-term.”
On the last word, a woman stepped into view. She was tall and slim, her chin as pointed as her ears. Her face didn’t suggest any particular age, but her eyes, framed by silver eyeglasses, held lifetimes’ worth of knowledge. The auburn of her hair, tied back in a severe bun, was broken by a silver-white streak.
“The Lady of the Balance,” I said. It wasn’t a question.
The fae woman inclined her head in acknowledgment. “You may call me Iliana. I think we have a close enough relationship by now to use our proper names, after all the problems you’ve caused me.”
“Don’t try to blame me for this. I didn’t know you existed until Mab’s enforcer came after me. And I would never have involved myself if I hadn’t needed to prove to her that I wasn’t responsible for the objections. I have a pretty good idea who planted the evidence that gave her that impression.”
With every word I spoke, her limbs loosened, and subtle lines disappeared from her face. I didn’t understand, until I did. When I realized what she was hearing that I wasn’t saying—what about my words had set her so at ease—my fingernails dug into my palms.
My voice was rough, weak. The iron poisoning, still, plus the aftereffects of the unnatural sleep. Maybe it was the disorientation of finding myself in a jungle when I had expected a prison, but I felt like half my mind was still caught in that limbo where the illusionist had dropped me with a single word. And the iron all around me wasn’t helping.
When I spoke, she heard weakness. She heard the voice of someone who wasn’t a threat. I straightened my back, and raised my chin, and took another step forward. A second later, though, I reconsidered. Yes, her visible relaxation had wounded my pride. But if I wanted to get out of here, maybe it wasn’t entirely a bad thing for her to think of me as incapable of fighting back.
I let my shoulders slump, and lowered my eyes. I focused on the throbbing ache of the iron all around me, and the jagged shards of pain still floating around in my veins, until I could feel my face crease with it. I raised my eyes just enough to see a little more tension leave her face. Internally, I smiled. But I didn’t let it show on my face.
“You weren’t involved yet,” she said. “But you would have been. I know your reputation. As soon as you found out what was happening, you would have charged in to stop us—and if we hadn’t taken action, it would have happened on your timetable, not ours.” She leaned back, crossing her arms. “Also, presenting you as a target gave us a way to either hand Mab’s knight an easy, satisfying victory, or send her to her death. At least that was the intention.” Her arched brows drew together.
“Your information about me is out of date,” I said. “I haven’t charged in to rescue anybody in seventy-five years. And even if I was still in the hero business, I would never have heard about a company in Hawthorne from all the way in Hawaii.”
“You would have eventually. We plan to put our technologies to use around the globe. Did you genuinely not know that? I thought you had done your research.” She gave a sharp, precise shrug. “It’s immaterial. Regardless of the specifics, you were a wild card. Better to get you out of the way early, we thought. It may have been a miscalculation.”
“Speaking of miscalculations. I was out cold for a while there. You had the opportunity to take another stab—so to speak—at what you wanted to do back in the Arkanica building. Without me awake enough to fight back, you could have gotten it right this time.” I raised my head enough to look her in the eyes, although I tried to make sure a glimmer of fear shone in my gaze. This close to that barbed wire, it wasn’t hard. “Why am I still alive?”
“That… is a simple question with a complicated answer.” She paced to a bed of tall purple flowers, then spun and walked the other way. “You are a vexing problem, Ciarán. Sending Vicantha against you didn’t work. Threatening the human girl’s life didn’t work. Killing you… well, we can both see how well that worked.”
She stopped her pacing, and studied me with such intensity that I imagined myself back in the lab, under the scientist’s microscope.
“I find myself intrigued by… alternate possibilities,” she said. “Ones that don’t involve a loss of the potential you represent. Your unfortunate human blood may have made you a pitiable creature, just self-aware enough to be able to understand your own limitations, but I’ve always maintained that the smallest of effects—and the smallest of people—can change the balance.”
I tried not to react to her words. It didn’t matter what she thought of me, or of my blood. Her blood was all that mattered—namely, getting out of here so I could liberate it from her body.
“Are you talking about recruiting me,” I asked, “or using me as a guinea pig? Either way, you may as well not bother. I’m certain I can make myself more trouble than I’m worth.”
She flinched at the mention of guinea pigs. “Hear me out first. From the earliest years of your life, your driving motivation has been to protect humans. Even though they despise your existence. Am I wrong?”
If I said she was, we would both know it was a lie. “I gave all that up.” But I wasn’t so sure that was the truth, either. Not after all I had done to save Skye. Not after I had made the decision—with a cold, clear mind—to get myself killed trying to save Vicantha’s life.
Iliana dismissed my words with a gesture. “You can’t give up who you are. Our nature is our nature, for better or for worse. Yours compels you to save human lives, in defiance of all reason. And I’m offering you a chance to help humanity on a grander scale than ever before.”
“I know what your help involves. I’m not interested.” This time, I was the one to turn a studying gaze on her. “But while we’re on the subject of helping humans, why have *you* gone into that business? Don’t try to convince me the Summer Court is benevolent and good-hearted. I was alive when the fae were still an active force in the world. Yes, you were magnanimous rulers—when you chose to be. That’s not the same as being on humanity’s side.”
“You have it right,” she said easily. “This has nothing to do with helping humans, at least for me. This is about Faerie. The world humanity forced us to retreat to, when their numbers and their iron drove us out of this world.” The soft persuasion in her voice disappeared. “You are aware that this world shapes that world, yes? So then what effect do you think your ‘climate change’ will have on Faerie?”
