Flicker (42 page)

              “Well,” Sarah said, standing sharply and looking down at Elise with something almost near pity in her eyes. “It's a good thing I'm already here.” For the first time, Elise agreed with her.

              Rashid laughed and laughed. Alexander was so cold, so weak, so drained, that even unbound, crawling across the floor was beyond him. And yet, he had to-- he wormed his way over filthy, splintered concrete, his hand outstretched, grasping for the glass-- and Rashid kicked it over. The precious water splashed into the dust, and the next moment, Rashid's boot came down squarely on Alexander's fingers.

              He howled in pain, his body curling in around his hand. “Heal yourself, O Powerful One,” Rashid cackled. Alexander reached for his power once more, and the tiny wisps at which he clutched sluggishly began to knit the bones in his fingers back together. He could feel each and every spur of bone as it grew, and against his will, a whimper worked its way out of his throat.

              “Favorite of the Queen, errand boy assassin for the Court,” Rashid chortled harshly. “Oh, if only Elise could see you now.”

              Through the haze of his agony, Alexander's vision went red. “Don't- you- dare-” He choked out through chattering teeth. Rashid was unable to contain his mirth.

              The thought of Elise danced through Alexander's mind, clearing his thoughts once more. He had already realized that Rashid had fooled him-- she wasn't here, was nowhere near here. Rashid hadn't touched her. That understanding was among the few things sustaining him.

              He was almost finished healing his fingers now. Just a little more... just drawing breath took so much effort; his body felt empty, deflated. He had nothing left.

              Rashid knelt down in front of Alexander and bent to see his face; his laughter had died away. “But what is this?” He mused, his quiet voice deadly. “You've stopped making those little noises I like so much. Is this it?” Rashid continued to murmur in a macabre parody of tenderness. “Is this all you have?” He chuckled, and Alexander shuddered as the hot wind of Rashid's power swept through him, invading. “Oh, no,” Rashid's body shook with mirth. Alexander closed his eyes, but there was no way to block out the sound. He felt Rashid's lips brush his ear. “You'll have to choose, Alexander. Do you heal all these nasty wounds I keep making, or do you continue to waste energy keeping yourself young?”

              Alexander's response was silent, but instant, and he knew Rashid heard it:
I will not. I will not play your game.
He knew he couldn't bear to let himself age again, even to save his own life. He had tried before, and the knowledge of his own slow suicide had nearly driven him mad.

              Without warning, Rashid whipped his knife out of the sheath on his calf and sliced a long gouge down Alexander's arm.

              Alexander stiffened, clenching his teeth as he tried to ride the pain. “Heal yourself!” Rashid snapped as he got to his feet and paced around Alexander. “Heal yourself or I cut something
off
and make you heal that!” Alexander writhed, but he kept silent, grinding his teeth as the blood soaked into his torn and filthy shirt. Being denied was making Rashid crazy, Alexander could tell, but still, he couldn't do otherwise. Not and retain any sense of himself. Not while Elise was out there waiting for him.

              “Oh, is that it?” Rashid's whisper was viciously amused. Alexander remembered too late that he had nothing left for his shields-- everything he thought, Rashid knew immediately. He filled his mind with his boundless loathing for Rashid, his attempt at defense bolstered by Rashid's next words.

              “She is mine now, Alexander.”

              Alexander struggled across the floor, trying to force his drained, broken body over the inches so he could choke the life from Rashid's lying throat. His limbs were lead, his tongue sandpaper; every breath burned as he drew it in, and his head-- he could find no words for the pounding, throbbing agony. But still, he crawled, calling to mind the names, the faces, that Rashid had wiped from the earth.
Abasi. Camila and Sabina and Dolores, the sisters in Brazil. All seventeen men and women in the Syrian cell of his cult. Xiu Xiang, the woman he'd dragged on a suicidal mission to overthrow the Queen.
And now he wanted Elise? Alexander would find a way to kill him before he'd let Rashid touch her. He couldn't let Rashid's lies distract him.

              Without warning, Rashid kicked Alexander in the ribs, shoving him until he rolled over onto his back. “I am not lying,” he chuckled, looking down into Alexander's face. “She's been mine for weeks. I took her from you, and there was nothing you could do about it. You didn't even know.”

              Alexander wheezed, wondering distantly if he should add broken ribs to his list of hurts. For a change, he focused on the pain-- anything to keep Rashid's words from burrowing into his ears. Rashid wasn't laughing anymore-- he crouched beside Alexander, who braced himself for more agony. But this was torment of a different sort.

              Rashid laid a hand comfortingly on Alexander's brow. “I know, it's hard to hear,” he murmured. “But it was only politics, you know.” He paused. “Well, perhaps I did take some pleasure in it being your woman I was stealing. But really, Alexander, this was never about you and me. From the moment I met her, Miss Elise was the player here, not you.”

              For some reason, that blithe statement made Alexander's pulse spike again. It wasn't that he thought Elise should have been a piece in the game between him and Rashid-- he had wanted to keep her clear of their personal war entirely. But it was precisely that-- this was between Rashid and himself, it always had been. That they-- that Rashid, he corrected himself-- had made him inconsequential, had used him as a pawn in a greater game, had used him to get to Elise, infuriated him. It negated the unspoken rules of the bitter, brutal feud in which he and Rashid had been engaged for nearly his entire life.

              “This was so important to you, wasn't it?” Rashid asked sympathetically, patting Alexander on his head as if he were some sort of half-tolerated pet. Alexander was too weak to push him away. “I'm so sorry. But you were only a sideshow to me, a distraction, a way to let off steam while I dedicated my life to real matters.” Alexander sneered, turning away as best he could-- he knew better. He knew Rashid's lies when he heard them.

              “Oh, yes?” Rashid grinned, answering Alexander's thoughts once more. “Good. Then let us put this Elise business to rest once and for all, shall we?” And Alexander was too drained to defend himself as Rashid reached into his mind-- but rather than inflict more pain, Rashid opened a sliver of his own mind, showing Alexander his memories.

              There was Elise, ashen and wide-eyed with fear as she shrank back behind Alexander in the garden. And yet, her gaze was assessing as it skimmed over Rashid, curious and burning with questions.

              And the next day, as she lifted her chin in an attempt at bravado in the coffee shop. “Alex cares about me,” she insisted in a voice that shook-- but Rashid could see the doubt in her eyes.

              And then scenes that were more disturbing, because they were familiar, and yet Alexander had never heard of them: Elise in the park, viewed from a distance, her hand up to her ear-- holding her cell phone, Alexander realized-- and speaking. Her voice coming through the little device in Rashid's ear. “Luna, the little Italian bistro on the corner of Main and Sixth Street, in fifteen minutes.” She sounded rushed, secretive. The wind whipped her long hair around her, just as Alexander had seen that day.

              Elise sitting at that same bistro-- Alexander had seen it as he'd walked the streets of Willowdale with her-- sipping wine. She was watching him-- watching Rashid-- with interest. “What do you mean?” He read her as easily as a book: she was intrigued, fascinated by what he was saying. When he made her angry and she stood abruptly to leave, it took only a few words from him to pull her back into her seat. She was so close to being his.

              Rashid watching her with Alexander in the park as they sparred, casting back and forth as Elise, though hopelessly under-trained, managed to hold her own. She looked up and saw him there, and as Alexander spun to chase after him, Rashid saw her give a tiny shake of her head and mouth the words, “Not now!” Acquiescing to her will-- for now-- he'd allowed Alexander to chase him off. But he'd be back for her.

              Elise striding down the sidewalk toward him, in an outfit Alexander had never seen. Even from the distance of Rashid's memory, she took his breath away. And yet, her answering gaze was for Rashid, as she looked him up and down with lust in her eyes. Nausea rolled through Alexander as he experienced Rashid taking her hand gently and helping her slide gracefully into the seat of a rented Lotus. He saw the gratitude in her gaze, and other things.

              And Elise, in the same clothes-- later that night-- walking arm in arm with Rashid through the city. Alexander gave a choking gasp-- he hadn't expected her to go into the city, hadn't prepared her for-- and his heart was in his throat as it was Rashid who protected her from her own power, Rashid to whom she looked at with awe, who she reached out for. “Thank you,” her warm voice breathed over Rashid's skin.

              Then he saw Elise looking out over the vista of the city skyline. Alexander watched through Rashid's eyes as she went white, her full lips parting just slightly as she gasped in fear. It was Rashid's hand she took as he led her to their table at the luxurious restaurant, Rashid to whom she reached for safety and security.

              And last, he saw Rashid sitting at that same table, saw him cut a lock of Elise's hair, and she watched him and smiled, her hazel eyes bright.

              Elise had betrayed him.

              The world went white, and Alexander thought no more.

              “Are you ready?” Gregory murmured in her ear, scarcely daring to make a sound. Elise nodded woodenly. He squeezed her shoulder once, and then he and Sarah were gone. Elise shivered in the pre-dawn chill, feeling suddenly very alone. She knew they were still there, circling the large building in the dark. But they'd masked their presence, and not being able to sense them left her feeling isolated and cut off. Forcibly, she reminded herself that she was supposed to-- that was what Rashid wanted. Straightening up, she took a deep breath and slipped through the unlocked door.

              Inside, the warehouse was pitch-black and utterly silent. Outside, the sky was just beginning to change as dawn's fingers crept over the horizon, but the meager, gray light was rendered useless inside by the grime built up on the massive windows high on the walls. Elise was forced to pause just inside the door and wait for her eyes to adjust. She had the sense of a vast space, but it was several minutes before she began to make out the hulking shapes of wooden crates stacked on top of each other and rusting machinery gathering dust. She still couldn't see more than a few feet in any direction, and didn't see or hear anything that might suggest Rashid or Alex had ever been here; following a path that was relatively clear of debris, she began to pick her way carefully through the maze of filthy crates.

              Elise supposed she ought to call out to Rashid, let him know that she was here-- but the silence was eerie, and left her feeling jumpy and reluctant to draw attention to herself. The derelict building gave the impression that any number of vile things could be lurking around the next corner, and Elise found herself shrinking under the gaze of imagined predators. As she crept further into the building, however, she began make out a tiny glow in the shadows. It was high up, however, well above the ground, and at first she dismissed it as the first rays of sun peeking through a broken window. But that wasn't right-- the light was on the wrong side of the building. Elise continued to feel her way painstakingly across the room, hoping the floor she could barely see wouldn't collapse out from under her, and after a few more minutes she realized that some of the twisted shapes against the walls were stairs. Instantly, the light made sense-- there was a loft up above the floor on which she stood, and there was a lamp lit up there.

              Elise changed direction, and made her way to what turned out to be a rickety iron staircase bolted against the wall. She looked at it sidelong, but when she tested the first step with her foot, it seemed sturdy enough. She supposed Rashid must have gotten up there some way. Holding her breath, her palms sweating, Elise began to climb. The steps were steep, and she had to hold her skirts high out of the way, which negated her ability to hold onto the railing-- something she deeply regretted as the staircase creaked alarmingly beneath her. The noise stopped her heart for a moment as it echoed through the empty warehouse, and Elise froze, unsure whether she was more afraid of falling or of being discovered. But the stairs held and nothing else in the building moved; about twenty steps up, Elise alighted to the cracked concrete balcony where she'd seen the light.

              The balcony stretched above a good third of the warehouse, and was littered with still more piles of wooden crates and pallets-- she couldn't even see the pitiful lamp from here, let alone have her path illuminated in the least. Below, the rest of the ruin was swallowed up in shadows. Somewhere down there, Elise hoped, Sarah and Gregory were moving into position-- but she couldn't think of them just now. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to reach out, seeking the source of the light that glowed somewhere up here with her.