Rogue (4 page)

When I came out of the bathroom, Riley and Wes were bent over the laptop, talking in the same low, urgent tones. Riley glanced up, and our eyes met once more, making my skin flush. Then Wes snapped his name, and he turned his attention to the computer again.

Edging up behind them, I peered over Riley’s shoulder at what looked like an aerial map on the screen. The surrounding area seemed barren—desert and dust and flat, open ground—but in the very center of the map sat a cluster of small buildings. No roads led to it; no other buildings or landmarks stood nearby.

“Is that where Garret is?” I asked softly. Wes shot me a dirty look. “That,” he stated, narrowing his eyes, “is St. George’s western chapterhouse, and it took me a bloody long time to find it, thank you very much. It’s not like the Order advertises where they are—technically those buildings don’t exist on any map or sightseeing brochure. But yes, the bastards that tried to kill us in California have likely returned there, your murderous boyfriend included.” He snorted and turned away, and I resisted the urge to slap the back of his head.

“I had no idea it was so close,” Riley muttered, staring intently at the screen, his face grim. “Right on the Arizona/Utah line. I’m going to have to relocate a couple safe houses farther east.”

“There’s nowhere completely safe, mate,” Wes said quietly, slumping back in his chair. “Not since they caught on that Talon moved a lot of its business to the States. They’re bloody everywhere now.”

“Where were they before?” I asked.

“England,” Riley answered without looking at me. “St. George’s main headquarters is in London, where it’s been for hundreds of years. They’re very traditional, and they don’t like change, so it took them a while to spread out. That’s why Talon does a lot of business in the US and other countries—the Order doesn’t have such a strong presence here. Or it didn’t for a long time.” He leaned over the laptop. “This is a fairly new base,” he stated, staring at the tiny white squares on the screen. “It wasn’t here ten years ago.” One finger rose to trace the perimeter, his face shadowed in thought. “There’s the fence, and that’s probably the armory, barracks and mess hall, officer housing…so this big one has to be headquarters.” He tapped the screen, tightening his jaw. “That’s where he’ll probably be.”

“Bloody fabulous,” Wes muttered. “The most heavily guarded building of them all. Tell me again why we’re doing this? If it was a hatchling we were all getting ourselves killed for, I’d understand. I wouldn’t like it, but I’d understand. That’s more your type of loony.” He continued to glower at Riley and ignore me, as if I wasn’t standing not three feet away. Well within singeing distance, I thought. “Even if we do get this blighter out, what makes you think he won’t run straight back to St. George to tell them where we are? Or shoot us in the back himself?”

“He won’t,” I snapped, glaring at Wes. “I know Garret. He’s not like that.”

Wes turned a disgusted sneer in my direction. “Really?” he drawled. “Then answer me this, if you know the blighter so very well—how long did it take you to figure out he was part of St. George?”

I flushed. I’d never guessed the truth, never let myself think Garret could be the enemy, not until he’d aimed a gun at my head, and even then I hadn’t wanted to believe it. Wes gave me a smirk. “Yeah, that’s what I figured. You only
think
you know him. But the truth of it is he was lying to you that whole time. He would’ve told you anything to get you to reveal yourself, anything you wanted to hear.”

“He saved us from Lilith—”

“He shot at a bloody adult dragon,” Wes interrupted. “Because it was clearly the bigger threat. And when it was over and his squad hadn’t arrived to back him up, he told you what was necessary for him to stay alive. He told you exactly what you wanted to hear.”

“That’s not true!” I remembered Garret’s face that night, the intense way he’d looked at me, the remorse and determination and guilt.
I’m done
,
he’d told me.
No more killing. No more deaths.
I’m not hunting your people anymore.

Wes snorted. “Leopards can’t change their spots,” he said with maddening self-assurance. “St. George will always hate and kill dragons because that’s what they do. It’s the
only
thing they know how to do.”

I looked to Riley, standing silently beside the desk, hoping he would back me up. To my dismay, his mouth was pressed into a grim line, his jaw set. My heart sank, even as I turned on him, frowning.

“You agree with him,” I accused, and his eyebrows rose. “You think this is a huge mistake, even though you were there. You heard what Garret said.”

“Firebrand.” Riley gave me a half weary, half angry look. “Yes, of course I agree with him,” he said evenly. “I’ve seen what St. George does, not only in the war, but to all our kind, everywhere. How many safe houses do you think I’ve lost to their cause? How many dragons are murdered by the Order every year? Not just the Vipers or Basilisks or the ones directly involved in the war.” His gaze narrowed. “I’ve seen them slaughter hatchlings, kids younger than you. I once watched a sniper take out an unarmed kid in cold blood. He was on his way to meet me, riding his bike through the park, and the shot came from nowhere. Because I couldn’t get to him in time.” Riley’s eyes flashed gold, the dragon very close to the surface, angry and defiant. “So, no, Firebrand, I’m not completely thrilled with the idea of rescuing one of the Order,” he finished in a near growl. “Any excuse for another of the bastards to die is a good one in my book. And don’t think your human is innocent just because he fought Lilith and let us go. He has dragon blood on his hands just like the rest of them.”

I cringed inside, knowing he was right. But I still raised my chin, staring him down. “I’m not leaving him to die,” I said firmly. “He saved our lives, and I won’t forget that, no matter what you say.” He crossed his arms, and I made a helpless gesture. “But you don’t have to come, Riley. I can do this alone. If you feel that strongly—”

“Firebrand, shut up,” Riley snapped. I blinked, and he gave me a look of supreme exasperation. “Of course I’m coming with you,” he growled. “I told you before, I won’t let you take on St. George alone. I’ll be with you every step of the way, and I’ll do my damnedest to keep us alive, but you can’t expect me to be happy about it.”

I swallowed. “I’ll make it up to you, Riley, I promise.”

Riley sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. “I’ll hold you to that,” he said. “When this is over, I fully expect you to do whatever I say, no hesitation, no questions asked. But first, let’s concentrate on getting through the next twenty-four hours. Come here.” He motioned me forward. “You’ll need to see this, if you’re planning on sneaking into the base with me. You
are
planning on coming, I assume? No chance of talking you out of it?”

“You know me better than that.”

“Sadly, I do.”

I eased in front of him and gazed down at the screen, suddenly very aware of his presence, his hand on my arm as he peered over my shoulder, the smell of his leather jacket. Wes grumbled under his breath, something that included the words
sodding
and
bollocks
, and Riley gave a grim chuckle.

“Yeah,” he muttered, his deep voice close to my ear, making my skin prickle. “Just like old times.”

Cobalt

Twelve years ago
1:18 a.m.

I slipped out the second-story window and dropped silently to the ground. Behind me, the office building remained dark, empty, as I leaned against the cement wall and dug my phone out of my pocket.

“It’s done,” I muttered into the speaker. “Everything is wired to explode. I just need confirmation that the building is empty before I detonate.”

“Roger that” came the voice on the other end. “Building is empty, the only thing left is the security guard outside. You are clear to proceed when ready.”

“Are you sure?” I growled, my voice hard. “I don’t want a repeat of what happened in Dublin. Are you absolutely certain there are no civilians inside?”

“That’s an affirmative. The building is clear. Waiting on your signal.”

“All right.” I stepped away from the wall. “Leaving the premises now. I’ll report in again when it’s done. Cobalt out.”

Lowering the phone, I gazed across the empty parking lot, thinking. It would be easy enough to slip through the fence, cross the street and vanish into the darkness without anyone knowing I was here. In fact, that was what Talon expected, what I was supposed to do. They chose me for these missions because I was damn good at my job—infiltrate a target, steal or plant whatever I was supposed to and get out again. All without being seen or leaving any evidence behind. I was probably the youngest Basilisk to infiltrate Talon’s enemies, and I was here only because the last Basilisk sent out on assignment never returned. But I kept completing missions, and the organization kept sending me on more, regardless of danger, time or my personal feelings. I didn’t know what this particular company had done to earn Talon’s wrath, and I didn’t want to know. Better not to ask questions; it was easier that way. But Talon required me to finish this assignment, and I knew what I had to do now.

Instead, I turned and headed toward the front of the building, following the wall until I found what I was looking for. A pudgy man in a blue-and-black uniform, silver flashlight dangling off his belt, sat in a chair near the front entrance. His arms were crossed, and his large chin rested on his chest as he sat there, eyes closed. I snorted.

Sleeping on the job, Mr. Rent-A-Cop? What would your employers have to say about that?

Bending down, I picked a pebble off the ground, tossed it in one hand and hurled it at the security guard. It struck his forehead and bounced off, and the human jerked up with a snort, nearly falling out of the chair. Flailing his arms, he glared around, then straightened as he spotted me, waiting in the shadows. I grinned at him and waved.

“Hey! Stop right there!”

I laughed and sprinted away as the guard scrambled after me. I jogged across the parking lot, making sure not to run too fast. Didn’t want him to give up the chase just yet. Pulling out my phone, I clicked it on and began dialing a sequence of numbers, the gasping, panting voice of the guard echoing behind me.

“You there! Freeze! I’m warning you…”

Sorry, human.
I reached the chain-link fence surrounding the property and leaped for the top, hitting the post and vaulting over with one hand. My thumb hovered over the final button as I walked swiftly away, hearing the guard reach the fence and pause, not bothering to pull himself up.
This is going to be a bad night for you. But at least you’ll be alive. That’s the most you can hope for when crossing paths with Talon.

I pressed the button.

A massive fireball rocked the air behind me, blowing out windows, shattering walls, sending pieces of the roof flying as the building erupted in a gout of flame. I felt the blast of energy toss my hair and clothes, and didn’t look back. Crossing the street, I slipped the phone into my pocket and melted into the darkness, leaving the structure burning behind me and one dazed rent-a-cop staring in dumbfounded amazement.

* * *

I reached my hotel room less than an hour later. Stripping out of my black work clothes, I changed quickly, then flipped on the news. The image showed the burned, demolished remains of the building I’d just left, surrounded by people and flashing lights. The words on the bottom of the television read: “Live: Mysterious explosion destroys office complex.” I sank onto the bed, watching grimly as a reporter’s voice filtered from the TV.

“…happened around 1:00 a.m. this morning,” the voice announced, as the image flipped to a bird’s-eye view of the demolished rooftop, gaping holes crumbling into darkness. “Thankfully, all the regular employees were gone, but we are getting reports that the janitorial staff was in the building when it exploded. Rescue teams are on the scene now…”

No.
I clenched a fist on my leg, horror and rage flooding my body. Leaping upright, I snatched my phone from the bed, dialed a number and stood there, shaking, until someone picked up.

“Well done, agent,” the voice on the other end greeted. “We saw the reports. Talon will be—”

“What the hell happened?” I snarled, interrupting him. “The building was supposed to be empty! They swore to me it was clear. No one was supposed to be inside.”

A pause. “Talon weighed the information and decided that the assignment would go forward as planned,” the voice said in a stiff, flat tone. “The loss of civilian life is…regrettable, but necessary.”

“Like hell it was! They told me the building was clear.”

“It is not your place to question the organization, agent.” Now the voice sounded angry. “Nor is it your job to know the details. Your job is to obey. You’ve performed as Talon wished, and the mission was a success. This conversation is over.”

The line went dead.

I lowered the phone, seething. Sinking onto the bed again, I stared at the television, watching humans and rescue dogs paw through the smoldering ruins, listening as a reporter interviewed the guard I’d saved. He credited himself with chasing the alleged bomber through the building and across the parking lot and made the pursuit sound much closer than it actually had been. But he did describe me as a young white male with dark hair, dressed all in black, and the police were on the lookout for anyone matching that description. They wouldn’t find me, of course. I didn’t exist in their systems; as far as the humans could tell, I was a ghost. By the time the authorities even got close to this hotel, I’d be on the other side of the country. Back to the war they couldn’t see.

Back to Talon.

I ground my teeth, tempted to hurl the phone at the wall, or maybe the television so that I wouldn’t have to see the aftermath of what I’d caused.
Dammit.
This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened, but it was the first time Talon had outright lied to me. Before, there had been suspicious happenstance, crossed communications, orders that could’ve been misinterpreted or reasoned away. Not this time. Talon had
assured
me that building was clear; I would have never pressed that button if it wasn’t.

And they knew it, too.

Sickened, I switched off the TV and flopped back on the bed, dragging my hands down my face. What now? How could I go on like this, knowing Talon would lie, that they would use me and more innocent people would get caught in the cross fire?

I could hear my trainer’s thin, high voice echoing in my head, mocking me.
There is no such thing as an “innocent casualty,” agent
,
it said.
This is a war, and people will die. That is the ugly truth of it. A few human deaths should not concern you.

But they
did
. A lot. Maybe I was the exception; maybe no other dragon in Talon cared if a few janitors were killed because they had been at the wrong place at the wrong time. But I did. And now more people were dead because of me.

My phone vibrated beside me on the quilt. Sitting up, I grabbed it as the screen came to life, showing a new message.

Stop moping
,
it read, indicating no one but my trainer, the Chief Basilisk himself. Brusque and to the point as always, but somehow finding ways to insult me.
A car will be at your location in five minutes. You have a new assignment.

Another mission? So soon? Dammit, I had just barely completed this one, and I was
tired
.
More than tired. Sickened. Numb. Furious. Both with myself and with Talon. I didn’t want to go back. I wanted to lock myself in a room and drink an insane amount of alcohol, until the scene on the news faded out of my mind. I’d be equally happy to stalk into an office and ream someone out, possibly with fire and a lot of cuss words. The last thing I wanted was to be called back for another assignment.

But what else could I do?

Methodically, I rose and began packing my things. Talon’s word was law; the opinions of a juvenile Basilisk agent didn’t concern them. They would send me out on another mission, and they would continue to do so, regardless of what I wanted. But I had the ominous, sneaking suspicion that I was reaching the limit of how far I could be pushed, used, lied to. One word hovered at the back of my mind, constant and terrifying, appearing in my thoughts no matter how hard I tried to shove it back.

Rogue.