rugs and crystal chandlers suspended from arched ceilings. I want to study everything in more detail, but Archer doesn’t focus on anything but the man standing at the foot of a winding staircase.
I know him. Levi. My former TL. There’s not a strand of dark hair out of place, and his lips are turned up in a welcoming smile. He’s dressed in a perfectly tailored suit. He’s dashing, the epitome of charm and sophistication.
He pats Archer on the shoulder. “Hello, Miss Lockwood. Miss Aubuchon.”
We both jolt in surprise.
“Ten,” he continues, walking to a pretty woman who is holding an infant. “I thought you’d enjoy a peek at our newest little charmer.”
Jeremy? I’m trembling. “Yes. Please, yes.”
He picks up the baby, oh...oh! Jeremy looks so healthy. His skin is pink and his cheeks rounded. He waves his arms and kicks his legs, and he’s smiling! He isn’t swaddled in a blanket—maybe he doesn’t need to be while in spirit form—but he’s wearing a onesie that reads Turn On the Light!
“He’s thriving,” Levi says. “And he is already loved. I’ve never had so many females visit my home.”
I place my hand over my mouth to mute my cry. This. This is joy.
Light in the house flickers, and Levi frowns. He hands Jeremy back to the woman. “Guard him with your life.” He strides into another room.
Archer follows him. “What’s going on?”
“One of our Conduits is in danger. We must—”
The connection to Archer, to Troika, is severed, cutting off his words.
“No!” I gasp out. “How is a Conduit in danger?”
The entire house shakes, a crack appearing in the wall. Am I the one in danger?
When the shaking stops, Deacon pushes us off the bed. “Someone’s coming.”
As we hop to our feet, a thump sounds in the hallway. Then the door bursts open and Killian strides inside the room. There’s a cut on his temple, the flesh leaking shimmering Lifeblood.
“We need to go,” he says to me. “Now.”
MYRIAD
From: P_B_4/65.1.18
To: K_F_5/23.53.6
Subject: Not Your Smartest Move
Where did you take the girl, Killian? Bring her back or this won’t end well for you.
MPB
MYRIAD
From: P_B_4/65.1.18
To: K_F_5/23.53.6
Subject: Answer Me!
We’ve captured one of Troika’s Conduits. He made the mistake of leaving the realm.
Bring the girl to me, or I kill the Conduit—and your mother.
MYRIAD
From: P_B_4/65.1.18
To: K_F_5/23.53.6
Subject: Too Late
The Conduit is dead. Your mother is next.
MYRIAD
From: P_B_4/65.1.18
To: K_F_5/23.53.6
Subject: Last Chance
Troika is severely weakened. Now is the time to strike! You’ve always wanted a chance like this. Come back, and you’ll get it. Or I can return to Myriad and track the girl, which I WILL do. Afterward, I’ll assign you to the Kennels for a decade—if I don’t kill you outright.
chapter twenty-two
“We see who you’ll be.”
—Troika
Killian takes my hand. He’s trembling and mumbling about Pearl being a bitch. As he tugs me from the bedroom, I cast Sloan a look goodbye, but Deacon is already hustling her toward the window.
“Jump,” Killian says. There’s a dark edge to him. One I’ve never seen before.
I obey and end up on the other side of the fallen guard. Judging by the fist-size lump on his temple and the trickle of blood running down his cheek, he’s human rather than Shell.
Word about my earlier outburst must have spread, because no other guests have come up here.
“What are you doing, Killian?”
“Making sure you survive the night.”
We pass my mother’s room. At the end of the hall, he stops to pick the lock on my father’s door. We rush inside. Well. Not everyone heard I’m on a rampage. Three people in different stages of undress leap from the bed when Killian flips on the light. He palms a gun, aims and fires off three consecutive shots. There’s no boom, no pop, only a soft whiz. Darts, I realize. All three people collapse.
He pushes me into the walk-in closet. He throws clothes from one of the racks, and I kick off my high heels. If we’re going on the run, I kinda need to be able to run. “Your dad needed a way out of the house if protests ever got too violent. There should be a lock—here.”
Click.
A doorway opens up, revealing a dark, dank staircase. We enter, the door closing behind us automatically. The scent of dust pervades, tickling my nose and throat, and I sneeze.
“I don’t want you in trouble, Killian,” I say.
“My choice, Ten.”
Zero! He’s using my own words against me. “Why are you choosing to do this?”
“I told you. You’ll make your decision without pressure.”