Thirteen
Page 45
One of the officers stepped forward. He grabbed the hilt and then let out a shriek so loud everyone jumped. He staggered back. Josef strode over and grabbed the officer’s hand. The man’s palm was covered in blisters and he trembled with pain.
“Sword lesson number two,” Mom said. “Don’t touch.”
“Set it down,” Josef said. “We’ll leave it behind.”
“Uh, that won’t work either.”
I’d been crouched beside Adam again, trying to wake him. Now I stood and stepped between them.
“Please don’t do this,” I said to Josef. “Two men have already been hurt. Just let Mom put the sword on her back and have the officers walk us out. She won’t reach for it. You can figure out what to do with it later.”
“Put the sword on the ground, Eve,” Josef said.
“If she does that, it’ll—”
“Enough.”
“But the sword will—”
“Enough.”
“Don’t bother, baby,” Mom said. “He’s as stubborn as your father. Unfortunately, not as bright. Why do you think Thomas passed him over for Sean?”
“Mom, please,” I whispered.
She met my gaze and nodded. Then she bent and laid the sword on the ground.
“Everyone stay back as I walk away,” she said. “Savannah’s right. Two people have been hurt already. Let’s not make this lesson a fatal one.”
She straightened and started walking away. Josef waved for the nearest officers to fall in.
“Beside her, please,” I said. “Or in front.”
The sword started to quiver, rattling against the concrete. As everyone stared at it, my mother kept walking. Josef barked for two more officers to take Adam and two to escort me. Kaufman came toward me and waved over the youngest officer. My gaze was still fixed on the rattling sword.
The kid started to cut across to me. Right between Mom and her sword.
“Don’t—!” I began.
The sword flew into the air. I leaped forward and yanked the kid toward me. He spun. The sword flew past. The kid let out a yelp. We hit the floor. As I scrambled up, he lay there, staring at his hand. The last joint of his pinkie finger was gone, blood flowing.
“Oh my God,” he whispered. His gaze went to my mother. The sword was on her back, attached to its mysterious holster. “Oh my God.”
I grabbed the kid’s hand, yanked a tissue from my pocket, and wrapped it around the bleeding finger.
“Be glad that’s all you lost,” I muttered. “She told you to stay clear.”
He looked up at me, eyes wide with shock, and managed a nod.
NINETEEN
I awoke smelling blood.
Even before I could get my eyes open, panic shot through me, those scenes of blood-soaked devastation—the police station, the motel room—flooding back. I jolted up, limbs flailing, eyes opening to find myself …
A cell. I was in a cell.
I swallowed, flashing back nine years to another cell. The one where my mother had died.
I shook off the memory and lifted my hands. No blood. What I smelled was copper. I heard the distant plinking of water against metal. Copper pipes?
I sat up. There were bars in front of me. Thick, rusting metal bars. Concrete under my feet. Dim light from the corridor beyond. None in here. A stone box with metal bars. Not like any prison cell I’d ever seen. Definitely not the Nast cells.
I’d seen those once when Sean snuck me in to speak to a prisoner I needed to question for a case. They were so similar to the Cortez cells that they could have been made by the same designer. There were variations on the type—from utilitarian holding cells to the long-term, ultra-secure cells—but all resembled a hotel room more than a prison. No bars. No cement. No dark corners. No dripping water. This one needed only chains on the walls to make it a proper dungeon.
I pressed my face between the bars, trying to see down the hall. When my heart stopped pounding, I could hear breathing. Raspy, labored breathing. Only it didn’t come from the hall. It came …
I turned slowly, then let out a gasp. Adam lay on the floor in the dark back corner. I ran to him and dropped to my knees. He was breathing—obviously—but still unconscious.
The blood had been cleaned from his face and there was tape over a cut on his cheek, but that was the extent of the medical care. Bastards. There are very strict rules for dealing with prisoners affiliated with another Cabal. Rules that do not allow beating them and dumping them in a dark cell.
So what did this mean? Would Lucas even be able to find us? Would Sean? And where was my mother? I squinted in the darkness, but there was no sign of her.
“Mom?” I called. “Are you here?”
A cough from somewhere outside. A hacking male cough. Nothing else.
I shook Adam’s shoulder. After a moment, he groaned.
“Adam?” I said. “Can you wake up?”
Another groan. He winced. Coughed. Winced again, hand going to his chest. I pulled open his shirt to see that they’d bound his ribs. He was hurt, seriously hurt, and they just dumped him here without even a cot to get him off the cold floor.
“Adam?”
His eyes stayed shut, but his lips cracked open. “Water.”
I looked around frantically. I could hear water, but it wasn’t anywhere—
Wait. There was a pile of stuff just inside the bars.
“Hold on,” I said.
I hurried over and found blankets, energy bars, bottles of water, and a pail. What was the pail … ?
Then I realized.
I carried everything except the pail back to Adam. I uncapped the water and let him have a sip, telling him to go slow. Then I wet a corner of a blanket and wiped the crust from his swollen eyes. He opened one.
“Hey,” he said, his voice weak. “I feel like shit.”
“You look like it, too.”
A soft laugh, followed by a wince. “You should see the other guy.”
“I did.”
“Damn.”
I smiled and gave him more water.
“They had guns,” he said. “Very unfair. They got one at my head before I could put up much of a fight. So I surrendered. Apparently, that wasn’t any fun for them.”
“Bastards.”
“Hmm.” His other eye opened. “Elena and Clay?”
“Sword lesson number two,” Mom said. “Don’t touch.”
“Set it down,” Josef said. “We’ll leave it behind.”
“Uh, that won’t work either.”
I’d been crouched beside Adam again, trying to wake him. Now I stood and stepped between them.
“Please don’t do this,” I said to Josef. “Two men have already been hurt. Just let Mom put the sword on her back and have the officers walk us out. She won’t reach for it. You can figure out what to do with it later.”
“Put the sword on the ground, Eve,” Josef said.
“If she does that, it’ll—”
“Enough.”
“But the sword will—”
“Enough.”
“Don’t bother, baby,” Mom said. “He’s as stubborn as your father. Unfortunately, not as bright. Why do you think Thomas passed him over for Sean?”
“Mom, please,” I whispered.
She met my gaze and nodded. Then she bent and laid the sword on the ground.
“Everyone stay back as I walk away,” she said. “Savannah’s right. Two people have been hurt already. Let’s not make this lesson a fatal one.”
She straightened and started walking away. Josef waved for the nearest officers to fall in.
“Beside her, please,” I said. “Or in front.”
The sword started to quiver, rattling against the concrete. As everyone stared at it, my mother kept walking. Josef barked for two more officers to take Adam and two to escort me. Kaufman came toward me and waved over the youngest officer. My gaze was still fixed on the rattling sword.
The kid started to cut across to me. Right between Mom and her sword.
“Don’t—!” I began.
The sword flew into the air. I leaped forward and yanked the kid toward me. He spun. The sword flew past. The kid let out a yelp. We hit the floor. As I scrambled up, he lay there, staring at his hand. The last joint of his pinkie finger was gone, blood flowing.
“Oh my God,” he whispered. His gaze went to my mother. The sword was on her back, attached to its mysterious holster. “Oh my God.”
I grabbed the kid’s hand, yanked a tissue from my pocket, and wrapped it around the bleeding finger.
“Be glad that’s all you lost,” I muttered. “She told you to stay clear.”
He looked up at me, eyes wide with shock, and managed a nod.
NINETEEN
I awoke smelling blood.
Even before I could get my eyes open, panic shot through me, those scenes of blood-soaked devastation—the police station, the motel room—flooding back. I jolted up, limbs flailing, eyes opening to find myself …
A cell. I was in a cell.
I swallowed, flashing back nine years to another cell. The one where my mother had died.
I shook off the memory and lifted my hands. No blood. What I smelled was copper. I heard the distant plinking of water against metal. Copper pipes?
I sat up. There were bars in front of me. Thick, rusting metal bars. Concrete under my feet. Dim light from the corridor beyond. None in here. A stone box with metal bars. Not like any prison cell I’d ever seen. Definitely not the Nast cells.
I’d seen those once when Sean snuck me in to speak to a prisoner I needed to question for a case. They were so similar to the Cortez cells that they could have been made by the same designer. There were variations on the type—from utilitarian holding cells to the long-term, ultra-secure cells—but all resembled a hotel room more than a prison. No bars. No cement. No dark corners. No dripping water. This one needed only chains on the walls to make it a proper dungeon.
I pressed my face between the bars, trying to see down the hall. When my heart stopped pounding, I could hear breathing. Raspy, labored breathing. Only it didn’t come from the hall. It came …
I turned slowly, then let out a gasp. Adam lay on the floor in the dark back corner. I ran to him and dropped to my knees. He was breathing—obviously—but still unconscious.
The blood had been cleaned from his face and there was tape over a cut on his cheek, but that was the extent of the medical care. Bastards. There are very strict rules for dealing with prisoners affiliated with another Cabal. Rules that do not allow beating them and dumping them in a dark cell.
So what did this mean? Would Lucas even be able to find us? Would Sean? And where was my mother? I squinted in the darkness, but there was no sign of her.
“Mom?” I called. “Are you here?”
A cough from somewhere outside. A hacking male cough. Nothing else.
I shook Adam’s shoulder. After a moment, he groaned.
“Adam?” I said. “Can you wake up?”
Another groan. He winced. Coughed. Winced again, hand going to his chest. I pulled open his shirt to see that they’d bound his ribs. He was hurt, seriously hurt, and they just dumped him here without even a cot to get him off the cold floor.
“Adam?”
His eyes stayed shut, but his lips cracked open. “Water.”
I looked around frantically. I could hear water, but it wasn’t anywhere—
Wait. There was a pile of stuff just inside the bars.
“Hold on,” I said.
I hurried over and found blankets, energy bars, bottles of water, and a pail. What was the pail … ?
Then I realized.
I carried everything except the pail back to Adam. I uncapped the water and let him have a sip, telling him to go slow. Then I wet a corner of a blanket and wiped the crust from his swollen eyes. He opened one.
“Hey,” he said, his voice weak. “I feel like shit.”
“You look like it, too.”
A soft laugh, followed by a wince. “You should see the other guy.”
“I did.”
“Damn.”
I smiled and gave him more water.
“They had guns,” he said. “Very unfair. They got one at my head before I could put up much of a fight. So I surrendered. Apparently, that wasn’t any fun for them.”
“Bastards.”
“Hmm.” His other eye opened. “Elena and Clay?”
