Thief of Lies - Brenda Drake Page 0,77

Arik said, glancing at Demos’s arm over my shoulder.

Demos withdrew his arm.

“All right, then.” Arik glanced at each Sentinel. “This is the moment we’ve only read about in our studies. A time we never thought would be during our guard.” He paused, his lips a straight line. “The Coming is here, and it is our duty to protect against the evils that will follow. I am not sure what we face, but there is not another bunch I would want to go into battle with than this one.”

“Nor is there a leader I would rather follow than you,” Jaran said as he straightened. “I will fight until my last breath for all that is good.”

“As will I,” Lei said.

“And I,” Kale followed.

Demos smirked. “Such mush.”

Lei glared at him.

“All right, no need to get hostile.” Demos held his hands up in surrender. “I was just trying to make light of the situation. I’d be the first to run into the fray.”

My knees were wobbly and my palms sweaty. How would they feel if they knew I was the Coming? I didn’t even know what it meant. I wasn’t like the rest of them. I didn’t want to fight to the death. All I wanted was to get Pop, Afton, and Nick to safety. And get my life back.

Arik cleared his throat and continued. “Take everything but your helmets. Kale will go with Gia to get Afton. Demos and Jaran will retrieve Nick, and I will go with Lei and Sinead to Gia’s home.”

I stepped forward. “I’m going to my own home.”

“It isn’t wise,” Arik said. “I know you’re worried about your father, but we can’t have you and Deidre together. Your neighbors may see.” He smiled then, a half smile—a crooked, endearing smile. “I will return with your father unscathed.”

He had a point. What would everyone think if they saw two of me? Pop, especially, would be really upset until I had a chance to explain. We needed to get him out of there quickly and quietly without a commotion, which someone might notice.

It was hard for me to leave Pop’s safety to someone else, but I followed Kale through the gateway book and into the Boston Athenæum. I rushed out of the library with Kale on my heels, not waiting for the others to come through. I stopped at the curb, surveyed the dark angry clouds, and buttoned up the trench coat. At least it was going to rain.

“Do you have money?” I asked as Kale caught up to me.

Kale stared at me quizzically. “What?”

“Money. Do you have any?”

“What type?”

Really? Where did he think he was?

“The American type,” I said.

“Oh, right.” Kale fished through his pockets. He pulled out a bundle of Euros, several twenty-dollar bills, and a few Benjamin Franklins.

My hand shot up in the air when a taxicab approached and I screamed, “Taxi!”

The ride to Afton’s house seemed like it took forever. The taxi had to stop for too many red lights and jaywalkers. I let out an exasperated breath when a bus stopped in front of us and we had to wait.

Kale patted my jittery hand, which rested beside him on the seat. “You needn’t worry. It is out of our control.”

“How can you stay so calm right now? What if they kidnap Pop and take him to Conemar? We have to get to them before his rogue Mystiks. We all could die.”

“Where I was born, they believe the soul is eternal and we live many lifetimes. This body is just one I will occupy during my journey. It comforts me to know this.”

“Where were you born?”

“In Manipur, in Northeast India.” Kale turned his attention to the window. “I’ve been there twice. The first time, I saw my changeling living the life that should’ve been mine, and the second time was”—he paused—“when I learned of his death.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, feeling bad for him. I never knew what to say when someone lost someone they cared about.

“Thank you,” he said. He sighed. “It was difficult for me to see the sorrow my birth mother had over the loss. I wanted to show myself to her, tell her who I was, and make her love me like she had loved him, but that would’ve been senseless.”

How will I feel to actually see Deidre living my life? Would I resent her, or care for her like Kale obviously cared for his changeling?

“I’m scared.”

“Never think about the coming fight.”

“No,” I said. “I’m not scared of fighting, I’m afraid of losing

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