Reign of Shadows (3 page)

Chapter Six

Aern

Aern stood in front of Brianna, hands clasped with hers as she searched his connections. He could feel Emily behind him from her spot on the edge of the sofa. He didn’t need to look to imagine her, hands twisted as she watched her sister work to restore some long-gone power within him. The bond was changing, becoming stronger—more real every moment—and he could sense her distress. This wasn’t some experiment to work toward a vague prophecy. This was Brianna’s last-chance gamble to save them from a vision she
knew
was true, a fight that was coming to them. A war they couldn’t escape.

Brianna set another thread into place, connected another link, and her shoulders slumped with the effort. He felt
a tug on the bond again, Emily’s worry, and he resisted the urge to look back at her. He didn’t want this. None of them wanted this. But he would do whatever it took to keep her safe. To keep her alive.

“Maybe that’s enough for now,” Emily said from behind him. He could hear the concern in her voice, and he knew Logan had been watching Brianna’s strength wane with about all the restraint he possessed.

Brianna opened her eyes. “Are you tired?”

Aern
considered the question, shrugged. “Not like before. I actually just feel”—he flexed his fingers, drew his shoulders back— “stronger.” He should have felt like sleeping for days, the need to heal sending him into a kind of comatose state, but his senses were only slightly dulled. He could see that the work had taken its toll on Brianna, though, so he pulled his hands free of hers.

Logan slid a chair behind her and she took it gratefully, beckoning to Emily at the same time. “Okay, now you.”

Emily stood, moving to Aern’s side. “No, Brianna. You need to rest.”

H
er argument was cut short by the buzz of Aern’s pocket. He pulled the device out, confused by the message that flashed over the screen. “I have to—” And then his own words fell off. He was at a loss to explain.

Brianna waved it away. “It’s fine. I can work with Logan until the two of you are free.”

Aern nodded, placing a hand on her shoulder before lacing his fingers into Emily’s to lead her from the room.

When they stepped outside,
Wesley was already moving up the corridor to meet them, the color drained from his face. “She’s in the west hall. They’re deciding which surgeries to go ahead with, so you’ve probably only got a minute to talk to her.”

Emily’s fingers tig
htened in Aern’s. She’d have no idea who they were speaking of, but from the look on Wesley’s face, it would be clear it was someone they knew personally.

Aern didn’t
explain; she’d see soon enough. Only the search teams he’d sent out knew that Brendan might still be alive, but no one had suspected they’d saved one of the others.

Six men waited outside her room. Seven more were standing just inside the entrance. He nodded to them briefly as they moved aside, grateful they’d managed to return. And then his eyes found her, and hi
s hand went slack in Emily’s.

There was a prep team working to move her, clearing the blood that was caked along her right side. He crossed the room, vaguely aware of Emily’s intake of breath beside him, the way her free hand came up to cover her mouth.

Aern placed a palm against Ellin’s left cheek, the only spot not marred by cuts or bruising, and she opened her eye. It was a moment before she recognized him, took in her surroundings, and then something changed in her face, a kind of relief, despite the damage that ravaged her.

Her lips parted, struggling to for
m a word, and Aern knelt closer.

“We think she’s trying to tell us about Brendan,” Eric said from behind them, his voice quiet.

Ellin’s eye closed tighter.

“No,”
Aern said. “Brianna. She’s trying to warn us about Brianna.” A grateful breath escaped her, and she opened her eye to close it again, in a long blink. A yes.

His thumb slid over her cheek. “Don’t worry, Ellin. We have her. She’s safe.” Her gaze moved to his, another warning, and he answered, “We know they’re coming for her, but she’s safe.”

Ellin hadn’t had a chance to learn about the battle with Morgan, hadn’t seen anything except the men who had taken her and Brendan. But Aern wouldn’t tell her yet. Not here. This room was filled with men and women of the Seven Lines, but they only knew what they’d witnessed of Brianna—the wind that had whipped around her, the power that had surged from her hands. No one had dared speak of the others, to even whisper
shadow
. “Rest,” he said. “We are all safe.”

Her eyes
fluttered shut with the words. Aern couldn’t be certain whether she truly believed them or not, but Ellin had been trained. She would understand the others were keeping Brendan, using him for leverage. She would understand that in this world, their version of safe meant something different. It wasn’t a promise to remain unharmed, only the reprieve to shut your eyes. To recover until the next round.

The cart was rushed from the
room; the preparations made that would allow them to repair her most serious injuries. To reset bones and stitch up wounds that would recover better given a headstart. The crowd of soldiers stood silent, watching as the door swung shut behind someone who’d been central to their Council lives, and later, at the Division.

“They’re coming for her?” Eric said, breaking the stillness of the room.

Aern closed his hand, the warmth of it only reminding him of how cold Ellin’s skin had been. He turned to Eric, who stood waiting in front of what was left of his team. “We have time. Brianna will give us warning.” He hoped the words were true, but if not, if they didn’t have time to prepare, it wouldn’t matter.

Eric gave a small nod, and drew a map from his pocket to start his report. “We found her here,” he
explained, pointing to a derelict industrial area. “Another warehouse. This one wasn’t even on Council’s records. We just got close and…” He stopped, wetting his lips, and glanced up at Aern. “It just seemed right.”

“You were pushed?” Aern said.

Eric shook his head, uncertain as he brought back the memory. “I’m not sure. I wasn’t…” He gestured toward his men. “None of us really know how it happened.” He indicated another spot on the map. “We were heading to the Jamestown buildings to see if we’d missed anything there. And then Cooper took a side street, and this place looked suspicious. There were new locks on the gate, but they were open. High-dollar security equipment and no one had bothered using it. We dropped the team, and suddenly we were heading through doors, following new tracks and evidence of water, a fire that had been extinguished. But it wasn’t right, Aern. There wasn’t any smoke damage, no sign of anyone around. Something was off. Wrong.”

Wrong
. Brianna’s words echoed through Aern’s mind, and he patted Eric on the shoulder. “Send Seth and the other teams to check out the area surrounding it. But don’t engage.” He looked again at the map in Eric’s hand. “Whatever this is, I don’t want anyone getting too close. Not until Brianna gives us the go-ahead.”

“And if they find us?” Eric said.

Aern glanced at the door that Ellin’s cart had disappeared behind, remembering her broken body. As if they had played with her, taken their time. Brianna’s face when she’d described Brendan, when she’d said the others were coming.

His gaze
met Eric’s, his tone even. “Pray.”

Chapter Seven

Shadows

Callan brushed a finger over his mouth as he watched the monitors. They would have retrieved her by now, taken the blonde back to their Council properties. He’d have to destroy the buildings soon, before the others noticed the body was missing. He’d liked the woman—the way she stared at him without flinching, the way she’d kept calm even when the water came. She had fight in her. But that wasn’t what had saved her. Brianna was the only reason the woman had lived, and Callan knew it. She’d been restoring their powers. Fiddling with the lines.

It was time. She was getting stronger, finding her own answers, and it was going to be too late. He couldn’t go to her, the shadows had warned him against that, but there would be no call for issue if Brianna found him.
If she initiated the contact.
Come to me
,
Brianna
, he thought.
Come to me and I will show you why
your kind is hiding.

Chapter Eight

Brianna

Brianna stared up at the canopy of her bed, vague memories of the foster families they’d lived with through the months they’d been on the run teasing at the back of her mind. “Do you ever wonder what it would be like to have a cookout?” She flexed her right foot where it crossed over the ankle of her left. “You know, just invite the neighbors over and sit by the pool. Maybe watch some fireworks after dark.”

Logan’s lips pursed. “Hot dogs are overrated.”

She shook her head, shifting so that her denim-covered leg touched his. “You’re cooking them wrong.”

He laughed, turning to see her. “How’s that?”

“You have to smother them in chili and that
radioactive-yellow cheese sauce, and then you cover the whole thing with a bag of corn chips.”

“That’s not a cookout,” he said. “That’s carnival food.”

She looked at him. “To just be normal. To not have to fight?”

He rolled toward her
, placed a hand on her hip. “Where’s the fun in that?”

She sighed, twisting her palm away from her stomach, and
drew the power through it again. She held up a small metal pin with her other hand, showing Logan how he’d be able to use the gifts she would give him. “Electromagnetic,” she said, releasing the pin to watch it slip into the space above her palm and then pulling it free again to hold to the side. “Arc.” She released the electricity, a thin line of spark shooting to the pin in her hand, and then dropped it, keeping the power in check. “And fire.” She pushed again, adding the energy required to ignite a flame.

“Enough,” he said, wrapping his hand around hers. “I trust you, Brianna.”

She turned to her side, facing him. “If the old texts are right, you’ll probably have some skill with mass as well. Gravity.”

He ran a thumb down her cheek to smooth out her distress. “Whatever you need from me, Brianna. Whatever it takes.”

“It will use a lot of energy. And your kind, the Seven Lines, doesn’t have as much in reserve. The shadows will be stronger than you, Logan. As a general rule, any of them you come in contact with will be able to overpower you.”

“I understand. Don’t engage unless we’re forced to, use some sense.”

“Yes,” she said. “And focus on your specialty, what you were made for.” Her hands slid up his, resting on the inside of his forearms. “You’ll be able to feel it, to know your limitations.” He listened patiently, taking in every word she said. “It won’t be new to them, Logan. They’ll have used it their whole lives, trained for this. Most of the time, you won’t even be able to see it coming.”

“Most of the time?” he asked.

She smirked. “They’re going to be a bit like Morgan, I’m afraid. They’re very proud of their power.” Her eyes went unfocused as she studied the visions, a set of futures where the lesser shadows sought her out. She couldn’t see them, exactly, but she could glimpse the events, knew the way things would unfold. She was hunting in the darkness, searching for bits of light in fog. These shadows weren’t as quick and ruthless, not like the others, but she knew that was coming, too. “Not all of them,” she said. “The men behind this, they aren’t in it for the glory.” She shivered, finding the last of the visions, the scenes too hard to relive. “They only want the outcome.”

Brianna fell silent then, watched him while she hesitated, and Logan drew her tight against him. “It’s okay.” He pressed his lips to hers, a soft kiss, and
said, “It will be fine.” He drew back to look at her. “We’re just like any other couple, lying in bed on a Saturday afternoon, making fire with our hands.”

“It’s Tuesday,” she deadpanned, some small part of her thrilling at the word
couple
as his mouth came up in a lopsided grin.

“Oh,” he
answered. “Well, that
is
weird.”

She laughed, finally closing her eyes to search his connections.
Logan was different than Aern, though both were strong. Aern’s connections would allow him to use the sway, to send those impulses more easily and to more people at once. It would make his direction stronger, the way it had with Morgan, and—if her suspicions were correct—give him a talent for knowing what people were thinking that would drive Emily crazy. But Logan’s powers would be more in the physical realm, his line having a talent with mass that the others lacked. It was scarier for some reason, and she wanted to believe it was because she’d had no choice with Aern, not because it was more dangerous. Not because of her visions.

She resisted the urge to draw her lip in, knowing that Logan was watching as she worked. She could practically feel his eyes on her face, roaming
over her features, wholly unconcerned with the change she was producing inside him. She wondered how it would feel to him, if the process would drain him the way it was draining her. She wanted to open an eye, peek at his face, but knew she didn’t have much longer to work before exhaustion took them both.

“Brianna,” he whispered,
and she could hear in the density of his voice how tired he truly was. When she looked at him, he murmured, “Let’s spend all of our Saturdays together.”

She smiled as
his eyes slid closed—because it was still Tuesday—and wondered if he’d already fallen asleep while she tied the last two broken links.

***

When she woke later, Logan was up, sitting at the bedside table with a handful of maps and photographs.

He
slid the paperwork over the top of the photos and closed the folder. “Hi.” Shifting, he braced a hand on his knee and leaned toward the bed. “Sandwiches in the front room if you’re interested.”

She squinted her eyes shut. “But business to talk about first?”

He smiled. “Am I that obvious?”

“No.” She sat up, craning her neck in a stretch. “I just thought I heard Aern’s voice earlier.”

Logan nodded. “Eric’s team found your warehouse. It seems Brendan wasn’t the only one they’d taken alive.” Brianna’s fingers tightened into the blanket, and he said, “Ellin is downstairs. They’d left her for dead, and it seems she wasn’t far from it.” He slid one of the photos from the bottom of the stack, carefully keeping the others from her view. “Does this look like the place?”

She stared into a photo of dark concrete floors, wet and tracked with footprints and drag marks, raw metal framework lining the walls.
It was the space the dark-haired man had dragged Brendan through. “He’s gone,” she whispered.

“Yes,” Logan said. “It looks like they took Brendan and left, no care as to the evidence they were leaving behind. Aern sent a team in to check it out, but the building went up in flames.”

Brianna’s eyes came up from the photo, nothing but wet concrete and metal—not the most flammable material—to find Logan. He sighed. “Not exactly a natural disaster.”

Her stomach dropped
as she remembered the dreams of the dark-haired man, heat and flame crumbling stone and metal as she waited with no chance for escape. The way she could hear his steps, even with the roar of the fire.

“Brianna?”

Logan’s voice was a vague background noise to a new vision, and she realized she must have triggered it with the memory, made some wrong decision. Things were different now, and those feelings—the little nudges that she’d taken to calling pushes—were turning to scenes, showing her exactly what would go wrong if she didn’t listen.

“No,” she said, shaking her head against an onslaught of wrongness that sickened her in its clarity.
It was Aern, and Eric, and all of the Division’s men. And it was fire. Logan’s hands were on her, and she focused on that, tearing from the vision to burrow into his chest.

His arms came around her. “Brianna.”

“It can’t be them, Logan. We have to go ourselves.” She pulled away from his chest to look at him, to make him promise. “When we find where they have Brendan, we have to go to him ourselves. It has to be us.”

He nodded, smoothing her hair away from her face.
“Whatever you need, Brianna. Whatever it takes.”