Rogue (12 page)

Garret brushed my arm, indicating for me to follow. With one last look at Riley, I turned away, trailing the soldier through the living room and out the back door, stepping into a dusty, weed-strewn yard. We sidled around the house, keeping our backs to the wall, until we came to the corner and the edge of the driveway. Garret peeked around the wall, his gaze scanning the open street and the rows of houses across from us. I braced myself against him to peek over his shoulder, feeling the tension lining his back.

“When do we move?” I whispered, thinking that the distance from one side of the road to the other had never looked so far.

“We have to wait for the distraction,” Garret replied, easing back. “Right now, we’re right in the shooter’s line of sight. We have to get across the road and behind the houses without being seen.”

I swallowed. “I wonder what Riley’s going to—”

There was a roar, a sudden inrush of air, and a window above us exploded into shards of heat and flames. Glass and splinters of burning wood showered us, making me flinch and press against the wall, as a massive firestorm erupted inside the house. As Riley launched his distraction in the most dragony way possible.

Garret tapped my leg. “Now.”

Garret

I darted from the house and sprinted across the road as quickly as I could, Ember close at my heels. I knew we were exposed; even with the rogue’s distraction, there was a chance the sniper would see us. But it seemed the sudden firestorm was enough of a disruption; we reached the other side without any shots fired and ducked behind another house.

The building we’d left had quickly become an inferno, tongues of fire snapping from the windows and roof, as dragon­fire burned hotter and fiercer than normal flame. It hadn’t gone unnoticed by the rest of the neighborhood, either. Cries of alarm were beginning to echo through the streets as civilians spilled from their own homes onto the pavement, gaping at the fire. A crowd formed rapidly in front of the burning house, talking to each other or speaking frantically into their phones. Some were even taking pictures. The police would arrive soon with the fire department, and they’d likely shut down the whole block. We didn’t have much time.

“This way,” I told Ember, and we crept swiftly up the street, weaving between fences and ducking behind cover when we could, moving toward the house on the corner. Ember stayed with me, never hesitating or slowing down, following my lead without fail. No more shots were fired on the house; there were far too many people out front now, watching the building burn. St. George wouldn’t risk firing into the crowd and hitting a civilian. But we didn’t want the soldiers following us, either. Or alerting the rest of their squad to where we’d gone. The threat had to be nullified before we could escape.

Which meant I would have to fight St. George face-to-face.

For a moment, crouched with Ember behind a parked car in a driveway, preparing for the next dash to cover, I felt a stab of guilt. What was I doing? These were my former brothers, men I’d fought beside just a few short weeks ago. What if the sniper was someone I knew? What if I got up there…and it was Tristan facing me on the other side? And if it was my former partner, staring at me down the sight of his gun, could he make himself pull the trigger? Could I?

We approached the last house, slipping through a rotting privacy fence and across an overgrown yard, moving swiftly for the door. There was no time for regret. I had made my choice. Past friendships, memories, the camaraderie I’d always been a part of—none of that mattered. The Order would kill me and my companions if I didn’t do something now.

We reached the back entrance, a simple wooden door that was probably locked from the inside. There was no time to pick the lock, no time for a quiet entrance. I drove my foot into the door, aiming for the weak spot right beside the handle, and it flew open with a crash.

The interior of the house was dark and empty, littered with trash and cobwebs. The windows were boarded up, and the air was musty and stale. A flight of wooden steps sat against the wall on our left, leading to the second floor. No St. George soldiers in sight, but they would likely be upstairs.

I jerked my head at Ember and started up the staircase, muzzle of the gun leading the way. The steps opened into a small corridor with two bedrooms sitting across from each other, their doors partially open to show empty, gutted floors and walls. A flight of wooden attic stairs had been pulled down and sat open in the middle of the hall.

As I started toward it, gun drawn, a flicker of movement in the corner of my eye gave me just enough time to react. As a soldier stepped out of the adjacent bedroom with his gun raised, I spun and struck his wrist, making him drop the weapon. Immediately, he lunged, grabbed my weapon arm and slammed me into the opposite wall. He was bigger than me, stocky and broad shouldered, with a shaved head and small black eyes. I recognized his face, though I didn’t recall his name. A scar twisted one side of his lip down as he snarled and smashed my wrist into the frame behind me. Pain shot through my hand, and the pistol clattered to the floor.

“Fucking dragonlover,” he growled, and threw a hard right hook at my temple, thankfully letting go of my wrist. I managed to block, ducking and getting my arm up, though the blow still rocked my head to the side. I lashed out with my other fist, throwing a body shot below his unprotected ribs. He grunted and slammed me back, cracking my head against the plaster, then smashed a fist at my face. I threw out my arm, deflecting the blow to the side, and spun with the motion, using the momentum to smash him into the wall.

He whirled with a back elbow at my face. I shifted, letting it graze my cheek, then drove my foot into the side of his knee. There was a pop, and his leg crumpled beneath him. As he hit the floor with a howl of pain, I snaked one arm around his throat and braced the back of his neck with the other. He thrashed, beating at my arms, trying to loosen the grip on his neck, but I set my jaw and didn’t move, counting down the seconds. At eight and a half, with no blood carrying oxygen to his brain, he shuddered and went limp in my arms.

I held him there a few seconds longer before I relaxed and let the body slump to the floor. One soldier down. But his partner, probably the sniper himself, had to be close—

A shot rang out in front of me.

I jerked, tensing to attack, then froze. Ember, wide-eyed and pale, stood at the top of the steps, a smoking pistol pointed at the ceiling behind me. Heart in my throat, I turned as a body dropped from the attic stairs and hit the floor with a thud.

A small hole pierced his forehead, right above his eyes, a near perfect head shot. Blood trickled down his face, over the bridge of his nose toward his mouth, open in surprise. One limp hand clutched his sidearm, a gloved finger still curled around the trigger.

Ember gave a tiny gasp and lowered her weapon. “I—I saw him through the hole,” she whispered, sounding dazed. Her arm trembled as she gestured weakly at the attic steps. “He had his gun out…pointed at your back. I didn’t know what else to do.”

She was shaking, eyes glassy as she stared at the body on the floor, as if waiting for it to move. When it didn’t, she looked up at me, almost pleading. “Did I…? Is he…?”

I blew out a long breath, closing my eyes. “He’s dead.” Painfully, I bent to retrieve my weapon, reluctant to glance at the fallen soldier, in case it was someone I knew. Rising, I checked the firearm out of habit, feeling aches from new bruises start to bloom along my body. My head throbbed, and my neck and back were sore from where I was slammed against the wall. But I was still alive.

Finally, inevitably, my gaze strayed to the body crumpled at the bottom of the steps, the sniper who had been firing on us from the attic window. For a split second, I tensed, wondering if I would see a familiar face with short dark hair, glazed blue eyes now staring at nothing. But the body at the foot of the steps was older than Tristan, unfamiliar to me. Through the aching guilt of what I’d just done, I felt a tiny prick of relief. I was truly the enemy of St. George now. I’d fought beside our ancient foes and had struck down my former brothers in arms but, at least for today, I wouldn’t have to face the person I dreaded fighting more than anyone else.

I hoped it would never come to that.

Ember was still standing at the top of the stairs, gazing down at the fallen soldier. Her skin was ashen, her bright hair a shocking contrast to her face. “I killed him,” she whispered, her voice choked and horrified. “He’s really dead. I didn’t… I didn’t mean to…”

“Ember.” I took a step toward her, and she flinched away, wide-eyed and trembling. Sympathy curled my stomach. I remembered
my
first kill, several years back, though it felt like a lifetime ago. It had been a dragon, and though I’d received nothing but praise and admiration from my brothers, I’d never forgotten the way it had stared at me as it lay there in the grass. I remembered its gaze, confused and terrified, before its eyes glazed over and it passed into death. I’d never spoken of it, but the nightmares from that day had haunted me for weeks afterward.

I knew what Ember was feeling right now, and I wished I had the words to comfort her, or the time. Sadly, we had neither. “Come on,” I said, starting toward the stairs. “Hurry, before the authorities arrive. We can’t be caught here.”

She blinked as I brushed past her, then followed me down the steps. “What about the…body?” she asked, stumbling over the word. “The police will find it. There’ll be a murder investigation at the very least. If anyone saw us enter the house, they’ll be looking for us, too.”

“Not likely.”

She frowned at my brusqueness. “How can you know that?”

“Because St. George has ways of covering this up,” I explained as we left the house, easing around the faded walls. “That soldier you killed,” I went on, gesturing back to the empty building, “he’s a ghost. We all are. We have no background, no past, no family except the Order. We don’t register in any system. When we die, we vanish, as if we never existed.”

“Oh,” Ember mused, though she didn’t sound reassured. “That’s…kind of sad. All that fighting, and no one even remembers you when you’re gone.”

I didn’t have an answer for that, so I stayed quiet. We slipped through the fence and huddled on the corner of the street, keeping a wary eye on the crowd surrounding the burning house. The roof was fully engulfed, clouds of black smoke billowing into the evening sky. I hoped Wes and the rogue dragon had been able to get out safely. And that they had come up with a getaway plan.

Sirens wailed in the distance. I tensed, and Ember froze, gazing down the street. The authorities were on their way. I glanced at the burning house, debating whether to search for our companions or to vacate the area and hope they caught up.

A sleek black SUV suddenly rounded a corner, barreled across the road and squealed to a stop in front of us. The driver’s window buzzed down, and Riley glared out at us, jerking his head at the back. “Get in!” he barked, as the sirens grew louder. “Let’s go!”

Yanking open the back door, I ducked into a black leather interior, the smell of new car surrounding me. Ember followed and slammed the door behind her, and the tires screeched as Riley stepped on the gas and roared away, leaving chaos in our wake.

Cobalt

Twelve years ago

Nearly there.

I pressed back against the office wall, holding my breath, as a pair of soldiers swept down the hallway just outside the door, their boots thumping in unison. They marched around a corner and out of sight, and I exhaled slowly in relief. Getting into this place had been a huge pain in the ass, with more close calls than I was comfortable with. It had taken all my considerable skills to make it this far unnoticed, and I still had to get out again once I was done. But one problem at a time.

A large wooden desk sat against the far wall, a computer perched atop the surface. Pressing into a corner, I hit a number on my phone and held it to my ear. One ring, and someone picked up.

“I’m in,” I whispered. Slipping around the desk, I jiggled the screen to life and pulled the human’s thumb drive out of my pocket. “Inserting the program now,” I said, and stuck the drive into the side of the computer.

For a few seconds, nothing happened. Then, a bar flashed across the top of the screen, the tiny white numbers above the strip at 0 percent. As I watched, it flicked to 1 percent, then 2 percent as the numbers started inching upward. Very, very slowly.

Oh, don’t rush or anything
,
I thought, peering around the desk at the open door.
No life-threatening situation here.
Just me, a dragon sitting in the middle of St. George. Please, take your time.

Footsteps echoed down the hall, coming gradually closer. I winced and ducked beneath the desk, shoving myself into a corner as voices drifted into the room, talking of meetings and drills and other boring things. Two humans passed by the door and continued down the hallway without slowing. I waited until they were truly gone before popping out and glaring at the bar on the screen.

Eighty-six percent. Dammit. How long did hacking a file take? Biting back my impatience, I waited, drumming my fingers on the floor, until the strip had completely filled and the numbers finally hit 100 percent. I yanked it out and stuffed the drive into my pocket then rose, relief and a strangely grim sensation stealing over me. One thing down.

But I wasn’t done yet.

The backpack felt heavy against my shoulders, reminding me of what came next. I slipped out of the room and made my way through the building, on high alert for guards, until I found the stairs. According to the Chief Basilisk, my final objective was below me, on the very last floor.

The hallways were dark as I crept across the tile, though a light glowed near the end of one of the corridors, the murmur of human voices drifting through an open door frame. Thankfully, I didn’t have to go far. My objective sat behind an inconspicuous white door at the end of a lonely hall, unguarded and exposed. The door was locked, but my skills got it open fairly quickly, and I eased inside.

A cold blast of air hit my skin, and my breath billowed in front of me as I gazed warily around. The room was windowless, stark and almost freezing. The walls were bare, the floor empty except for three metal towers in the center of the tile, blinking with dozens of green and blue lights. As server rooms went, it was pretty small, unlike the vast rooms with dozens of computer towers lining the floor that I had seen in other buildings. These servers would provide only enough information for this one isolated compound. I wondered why Talon was so keen on blowing it up. Still, I had my mission, and it wasn’t my job to ask questions. The sooner I was done here, the sooner I could leave.

Shrugging out of my backpack, I knelt and carefully eased the padded black case out, then clicked it open. The incendiary device sat within, and my heart pounded as I stared at it. The new “toy” I was supposed to try out was a bomb, and not just any bomb. This one was much more powerful than a normal explosive, my trainer had said. A combination of science, magic and dragonfire, packed into this small, deadly package. Dragonfire was not like normal fire; it burned hotter, fiercer, and was capable of melting steel and turning flesh to ashes in minutes. It had the tendency to cling to whatever it touched, consuming any material until it was completely gone. Even now, with all the technology and tools and firearms dragons had adapted over the centuries, our breath remained our most lethal weapon. It was the main reason St. George feared us in battle. If this thing worked the way Talon expected, it would not only destroy this room and pulverize the servers, it would spread caustic, roaring dragonfire through the whole floor, blowing out walls, weakening supports and bringing the whole building down on top of it.

And of course, anyone caught in the blast would be nothing but a smoking, blackened skeleton when they were found, an image that made my gut clench. More killing. More deaths. But at least this target was a heavily armed St. George chapter­house, filled with active soldiers dedicated to making my race extinct. They understood their part in this war; they knew exactly who they were fighting.

Whatever you have to tell yourself, Cobalt. Let’s get this over with.

As smoothly as I could, I placed the bomb on the tile floor and slid it beneath one of the towers. It glimmered dully in the shadows, silent and deadly, and for a moment, I hesitated, staring at the device. Press a button; that was all I had to do. Press a button, and get out. The most dangerous mission of my life was nearly done. I was almost home free.

I shook myself, then reached down and firmly pressed the small red button on the side of the case. There was a faint click, and glowing numbers flashed across the tiny black screen on top. They blinked for a moment, then began counting down.

15:00

14:59

14:58

Swiftly, I rose, my steps heavy as I headed toward the door. Fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes before this place exploded in a hellish firestorm and turned everyone inside to ashes.

These are soldiers
,
I reminded myself again as my hand closed on the knob.
They’ve accepted the risks. For every one of them you kill, more dragon lives will be saved. This is for the good of us all.

So why did I feel like I might puke if I thought too hard about it?

I opened the door, stepped out of the room…

…and came face-to-face with a girl.

I froze. The human looked up at me, green eyes appraising in a round, pale face. She wore a simple yellow dress, and curls of white-blond hair tumbled down her shoulders. She seemed completely unafraid, and for a split second, we stared at one another.

Then the girl blinked her somber green eyes. “You’re not supposed to be in there,” she said softly.

Instinctively, my muscles tensed, ready to spring forward, cover the human’s mouth and yank her back into the room. I knew I couldn’t let her run away and alert the rest of the base to my presence. But as she gazed up at me, bold yet curious, I faltered. She was a kid, no more than six or seven in human years. Not a soldier, not even an adult. If I grabbed her now…I’d probably have to kill her.

The girl cocked her head as I struggled with my decision. “What are you doing?” she whispered, her voice furtive, as if she was in on the conspiracy. “Are you hiding from someone?”

“Uh…yeah.” I had no idea what the hell I would even say to her after that. If the kid screamed, my chances of survival were basically zero. But the thought of killing her, feeling her small neck snap under my fingers, made my insides curl. Even though I knew she would grow up to hate my kind and want us extinct. Because she was part of St. George, and that’s what they did. Took people as normal and innocent as this girl and turned them into dragon-hating zealots.

The little human blinked again. “Why?” she asked, still keeping her voice soft. “Who’s looking for you? Are you in trouble?”

Oh, definitely.
“No,” I whispered, giving her what I hoped was a careless grin and shrug. “I’m…uh…playing hide-and-seek with some of the soldiers.” Even as I said it, I winced inside at how stupid that sounded. But I couldn’t stop now. “It’s…a…a new exercise,” I went on, as she frowned. “They have to find me before time runs out, or I win. But if I’m caught, I have to wash everyone’s dishes for a month.”

The girl’s frown deepened, bordering on outrage. “That’s not fair!” she whispered indignantly. “There’s a lot of them, and only one of you. Not fair.” She put her hands on her hips, and I shrugged again, giving her a “what can you do?” look. Her nose wrinkled, lips pursing in annoyance. “Do
they
have to wash dishes if you win?”

“Um…no,” I said, wondering how I had been drawn into this crazy conversation, and how I could leave it without being discovered.

“Why not?”

“Because…ah…”

“Madison?”

A new voice drifted from another hallway, and I cringed. This was it. I was going to be caught, because I’d been stupid and softhearted, and hadn’t silenced this kid when I had the chance. But the girl turned her head, eyes widening, then glanced back at me.

“You better go,” she whispered. “Before they see you.”

I stared at her, stunned, and she made shooing motions as she backed away. “Go,” she whispered again. “Hurry up and hide! I won’t tell anyone where you are, I promise.”

“Madison!” The voice sounded annoyed, and closer. The girl grinned and, before I could do or say anything, turned and scurried off, vanishing around a corner as quickly as she had appeared.

Just like that, I was alone.

“There you are,” said the man’s voice, as I pressed against the door frame, listening with a kind of numb anticipation. “I thought I might find you down here. What do I keep telling you about wandering off? Who were you talking to?”

“Nobody,” Madison drawled, way too sweetly I thought. “I wanted to see if Peter was down here. He promised he’d show me the server room if I was good.” My heart pounded, but the man, whoever he was, simply grunted.

“You and your computer fascination. Well, come on. I have to finish one last report, and then we’ll go get breakfast.”

And their footsteps faded down the hall in the opposite direction. A door slammed shut, and silence fell once more. I let out my breath in a rush and collapsed against the wall.

Waaaaay too close, Cobalt. Still a lucky SOB. Now get out of here, before that bomb goes off…

Shit. The bomb.

I started to move, to hurry back into the shadows and make a beeline for the gate as quietly as I could, hoping to somehow avoid both the soldiers and the deadly explosion
minutes
from going off.

Then…I hesitated. In the middle of a St. George chapterhouse, surrounded by enemies who would kill me on sight, with my seconds rapidly ticking away, I hesitated, unable to make myself take another step. If I left now, if I finished the mission and walked away, everyone on this floor would die.

Including that kid. Madison, the girl I’d met for only a couple minutes, would die. She was human, she was part of St. George, but she wasn’t a soldier. And without even knowing it, she had saved my life.

I raked my hands through my hair.
So, what are you going to do, Cobalt? Not complete the mission? Go back to Talon and admit you failed? You know they won’t accept that.

No, they wouldn’t. So that left me with exactly three options. Return to Talon having failed the mission. Accept their punishment, whatever it was, knowing they would never trust me again, knowing they would consider me tainted and incompetent and somehow corrupted. Talon had little use for dragons who failed; my future with the organization was assured only if I continued to be valuable. It was career suicide, but I could kill the bomb, return to Talon and face the consequences of my decision, whatever they might be.

Or, I could finish what I came here to do: leave the bomb and get out, knowing more people would die. Knowing that kid would burn to death like everyone around her, because she had let me go. And I might never sleep again without seeing her face, staring up at me from my dreams.

Then, of course, there was the final option.

My chest felt tight, my stomach twisting into painful knots. Everything, it seemed, had come down to this moment. Run, or stay? Continue with the organization, or take my chances on my own? Hunted. Hated. A traitor to my own kind.

A rogue.

My hands shook, and fear spread through me as I realized the truth. I couldn’t do this anymore. I couldn’t go back to the organization knowing some little kid had died…no, that
I’d
killed her, and Talon wouldn’t think twice about it. Why should they? She was only human, and human lives meant nothing to dragons. If a few mortals died so that our race was preserved, then the sacrifice was worth it.

But they never had to see the faces of those they destroyed; the
sacrifices
they spoke of, the consequences of our war, never touched their desks. They had me. I was doing their dirty work for them.

No. No more. That ended right now.

Numbly, I went back into the server room and walked to the place the bomb sat, tiny and ominous, red numbers ticking down. Looking down at it, everything inside me went cold.

2:33

2:32

2:31

Two minutes?
What the hell? Even after the conversation with Madison, there was no way that much time had elapsed. Though the reason for it was immediately clear: the timer was moving twice as fast as a normal clock, eating away the seconds at a frightening speed. Even as I stared, they seemed to go faster, until the seconds were nothing but a red blur against the screen. My head spun with the implications. I’d never make it out in time. If I hadn’t come back, I would’ve died with the humans when the building went down.

Horror flooded me. Dropping to my knees, I pulled out my wire cutters and stared at the tangle of wires surrounding the bomb. Red, blue and yellow. My hands shook, and I clamped down on my resolve. If I chose wrong, none of this would matter, except my death would arrive a few seconds earlier than planned.

I clenched my other fist. Without thinking too much about it, I jammed the blades around one of the red wires and, before I could second-guess myself, snapped them shut, severing the line.