Shifting Fate (14 page)

“
Shut up,” the man nearest
me replied. “You know what Morgan said.”

“
I don’t care what he
thinks,” the first muttered, “there’s no way she’s going to wake up
soon. We gave her twice the lethal dose.”

The man beside me shifted; I could feel his
breath on my plaster-dusted skin. He must have been kneeling to get
a closer look. “I wouldn’t let him hear you talking like that if
you value your life,” he said, putting a finger under my chin to
raise my face. It took everything I had not to flinch. “Besides,
she’s not like the others. This one’s strong.”

He pushed the hair back from my face and
lifted my eyelid with a thumb.

I tried to stay unfocused, I did. But when he
blew a puff of air into my eye, my gaze automatically fixed on
his.

He smiled. “Well, there she is. Aren’t we
happy to see you.” He had dark eyes, well-cut black hair, and a
strong, square jaw. It was a face I would remember, but I couldn’t
place him from any of Brendan’s files. He called over his shoulder,
“Find some water, we’ll get her cleaned up.”

“
You’re not supposed to be
here alone,” the other man said from behind him.

His jaw clenched, but he didn’t take his hand
from beneath my chin, didn’t turn from my gaze. “One more and
you’re meat, Fisher.”

“
Sir.” He turned from the
room without another pause. He’d left the door open, and I could
hear commotion at the news that I was awake.

“
What are you going to do to
me?” I asked, my voice rough and cracked.

He let the pressure off my chin, brushing the
rest of my hair back. “Not to worry. It won’t be long.”

The second man reappeared, bringing a damp
cloth and a basin of water. He stayed several paces back from me,
placing the basin on the floor and scooting it forward with the toe
of his boot.

“
That will be all,” the one
near me said.

“
I’m not leaving,” the other
replied. The man in front of me turned, and the other added,
“Sir.”

My eyes flicked between the two, the
dark-haired man must have been a leader of sorts, but it was more
than mere rank. His presence was potent.

“
Who are you?” I
whispered.

He raised a brow. “You don’t already know?
How disappointing.”

The sarcasm in his voice was caustic, but
when he wiped my face clean, he was overly careful. The rag came
away tinged with pink and he rinsed it in the basin.

“
Can I have a drink?” I
asked.

He brushed the cloth along my arms, streaking
dirt and plaster over skin. “Not yet.”

He dropped the cloth into the basin and
stood. “I will see you soon, Brianna Drake.”

Both men walked from the room, the second
taking the bowl without so much as a glance in my direction. The
door banged shut, leaving me damp and alone in the dark room. How
many men where outside … fifteen, twenty? It could have been more.
How many would it have taken to overcome the Division’s security?
How many had been lost there?

How the heck was I supposed to scratch my
nose? I blew a puff of air out, wincing at the pain it caused in my
shoulder. It did feel better having the dust wiped from my face,
but my eyes were still dry, my head throbbing. I closed my eyes and
leaned against the wall, trying to clear my thoughts, but I was
still too groggy from the drug. I dozed off, waking occasionally to
the empty room, but the thirst and the numbness were getting
worse.

I yanked again at the binds, which were now
cutting into the meat of my wrists, but the only relief I could
find was in shifting my legs. I was counting the hours, but there
was no way to know how long it had been. Six hours? Ten? Thirty?
I’d drifted to sleep once more when the door slammed open, and my
head jerked to find the noise.

There was no sound outside, but I knew the
other soldiers were there. The dark-haired man stood in the
doorway, a bottle of water in one hand. He tilted his head to look
at me, as if deciding, and then walked the rest of the way in.

He knelt beside me, bottle in hand, and
tipped it toward my mouth. I leaned my chin up, head scraping the
wall, and drank.

“
There,” the man said,
pulling the bottle free, “that’s enough for now.”

I sucked in a breath,
relieved at having at least something to drink, but desperate for
more. He stood, placing the cap back on, and I croaked,
“
Wait
.”

He shook his head, rolling the half empty
bottle in between his hands. “That’s all for now.”

And then he was gone.

I decided, in the hours he was away, that the
next time I saw him, he was going to die. But what came through the
door next, was not what I’d expected.

“
Morgan,” I breathed, the
sight of him—suit clean and pressed, face smooth and calm—made my
chest ache with a sudden horror.

He smiled. “Brianna, so lovely to see you
again.” He crossed the room to me, stopping the toe of his slick
black dress shoes just inches from my outstretched leg, and
crouched down to face me.

My chest was rising and falling too fast. How
had he gotten free? How was he standing here? What did it mean for
the others?

Why did I not see this?

He wet his lips, reaching a hand up to trace
my cheek with the back of his finger. “I hope they’ve been treating
you well. I know how unpleasant captivity can be.”

I felt like retching. I couldn’t even think
of what had to have happened for Morgan to be free, not to Wesley,
not to any of them.

“
I can see you have
questions,” Morgan purred. “Let me enlighten you.”

He snapped his fingers and a man I’d not seen
in my shock moved the chair closer to him.

“
Go,” Morgan commanded,
sitting casually into the dirty chair. The man disappeared, leaving
the door open behind him. I could see light through the opening,
large metal pipes low to the ground. It was a factory, but not one
we’d been to on our search.

Morgan edged forward, elbows
resting over his knees, and said, “It’s given me a lot of time to
think, Brianna, being trapped inside their room.” He pronounced my
name like he owned me, and I hated it. He leaned back, pulling a
thin silver blade from his inside jacket pocket, and my eyes
followed the motion as he gave it a twist, balancing the point
against one finger and the grip on the other. The metal reflected
light from the vents, from the open door. “How could this have
happened, I thought,” he continued. “How could
Emily
have been the chosen, if you had
the power to give us?”

He stared into my eyes with
a ferocity that made me certain he was trying his sway, and then he
shook his head dismissively. “I’d known it wouldn’t be easy. Of
course there would be opposition,” he said, “but, Brianna, this
was
more
.”

His hand shifted and I caught sight of a long
scar across his palm.

He saw me looking. “Yes, it wasn’t a clean
extraction, but it doesn’t matter. I heal at extraordinary rates
now.”

So he’d been sleeping. They’d saved him
during the fight, when they’d taken me, and he’d been recovering.
For how long now, how many hours or days had I been strapped here?
They were under his command and they were keeping me weak on
purpose. For him.

He closed his hand over the blade. “If you
would listen to me, Brianna dear, I am trying to tell you something
important.” My eyes came back to his. He smiled cordially. “There.
Now, as I was saying, I’d heard whispers of it before, when I was a
boy.”

“
Are they alive?” I
asked.

He clicked his tongue. “You are testing my
patience, Brianna. Let me tell you the story.”

I waited.

He sat staring at me for a few seconds before
starting again, as if to be sure I would actually comply. “I know
what the others think,” he said. “But Tarian was my ally.”

It took me a moment to recall where I’d heard
the name, but Morgan saw when recognition lit my face.

“
That’s right,” he said.
“The man they claim was responsible for the death of my father.” He
tapped a finger casually on his leg. “Tarian had things prepared
for me, Brianna. He created an army.”

“
Morgan—”

He held up a hand to stop me. “Granted, I’ve
had to build it up myself since then, but he gave me the tools I’d
need to survive.” He leaned forward, a hint of awe unexpectedly
crossing his features, and said, “I didn’t believe him. For all
those years, I never thought it was possible. They were no more
than legend,” he shook his head, “but even lore had them killed off
so long ago. There was no living record of them, anywhere.” He
moved closer, drawing a strand of my hair between his fingers.
“You’re so like her, Brianna.”

I felt my jaw go tight, the
wounds at my wrists pulling hard against their bonds. Morgan closed
his eyes, taking in the scent of me. “I should have seen it then.
She was so strong, so confident she knew what to do to win. I was a
fool. How could anyone have seen the truth, have believed it? But
it’s the only way. The prophecy makes sense now, because of the two
of you.” His nose brushed my cheek, his breath slow and easy as he
brought his lips to my ear and whispered, “
Shadow
.”

Chapter Sixteen

Secrets

I tried not to react to
Morgan’s words, but the shock was too much to hide. A satisfied
breath escaped him, brushing my skin. “Yes,” he whispered. “I know
why you can do what you do, Brianna. I know how it is that you have
the power to give us back our gifts. I
know
.”

He drew back so I could see his face, but
kept his voice low. “And your sister, I understand now why she was
the chosen. You are like two halves of a whole. The scales of
justice, if you will.” He smiled at his analogy. “Tarian was right,
Brianna. And I will have my due.”

His face tightened, and when
he straightened in the chair, I could see blood welling in the grip
he’d had on the knife. “It wasn’t as if I never expected my brother
to betray me, Brianna. But the prophecy,
my
fate
, is
not
his.”

“
What are you talking
about?” I replied flippantly, trying for some doubt to seep in, to
at least give him pause, but it didn’t work. He’d already
decided.

“
Aern has the power if he
has the chosen,” Morgan said. “But without it …”

He smiled again and my eyes closed in defeat.
I could feel it. It was over. Everything we’d done to get here,
gone. Morgan would win. The world would end in fire. In death.

Metal scraped across the floor and Morgan’s
footfalls began to recede.

“
If you touch her,” I
hissed, “there will be no help from me.”

He stopped, turning back to face me. “Do you
know how I escaped their inescapable prison, Brianna?” He slid his
hands into the pockets of his slacks. “Brendan.”

He shifted the heel of his
shoe on the concrete floor, giving me a moment to let that sink in.
“Brendan was so distraught that you’d been taken, and under his
care no less, that he rushed to my quarters and tore the door open.
I don’t know what kind of little trick you played with the ginger
boy, but you didn’t do it to Brendan. And the moment I touched
him,” he smiled, emphasizing the ease of his sway, and said, “there
is no better leverage than hurting someone you care for, Brianna.
You
will
do as I
say.”

The door closed behind me, leaving me in
darkness. Alone. I stared at it, the names of those I had lost,
those I was about to lose, falling helplessly through my mind.

Wesley.

Brendan.

Emily.

Aern.

Every soldier I’d met at the Division. The
entire staff of Council. Every person that had ever helped me would
be gone.

But there was one name that didn’t come, one
name I couldn’t bear to think of. Because it was probably already
too late for him.

When the door opened again, I had no idea how
much time had passed. I stared numbly on as the man who’d been
called Fisher approached, carrying a basin of water. He crouched
beside me, a full arm’s length away, and sat the bowl between us.
The damp cloth touched my face, trickling a bead of warm water down
my neck. I didn’t look at him when I said evenly, “He wants me
cleaned up for him. You didn’t do a good enough job.”

The man didn’t respond, trailing the cloth
down my skin as he reached over the basin, arm fully extended. He
was staying as far away from me as possible. And he’d come in
alone.

I glanced at him sideways. “Where is the
other one?”

He didn’t answer.

“
Your boss, dark hair, GQ
face?”

His eyes narrowed the tiniest bit, but he
still didn’t reply, only moved to wash my other side.

I stared at my feet, smudged and dirty. I had
full movement of my legs. I could wrap them around him, if he got
close enough. If he were to just move within striking distance, I
could snare him, a quick twist and snap his neck. Couldn’t I?

And then what? I’d still be tied here. A dead
man lying at my feet. It didn’t matter, he wasn’t taking his eyes
off me, wasn’t going to move closer. He would leave, without so
much as a word. “Fisher,” I whispered, “you know who I am.”

The movement of his cloth faltered, but he
didn’t reply.

“
Morgan told you,” I said.
“He told you all that I was important, that I was a prophet.” I wet
my lips, desperate for water, and went on, “But he didn’t tell you
what I see.”