Thief of Lies - Brenda Drake Page 0,80

to show how happy I was to be with him again.

Demos was waiting on the steps for us.

A thought struck me. “We should call Arik and let him know Deidre and Pop are here.”

“Right. They’re most likely waiting for them at your apartment.” Kale pulled his cell phone out of his pants pocket and poked the numbers on the screen.

“Yes?” Arik’s voice blasted through the phone. Kale must’ve accidentally hit the speaker button. Clanging and crashing sounds came over the phone.

“This is Kale. What’s going on there?”

“Sword fight. I have—”

Clang!

“To—”

Clang!

“Go—”

Clang!

Fear ignited within me. I wanted to rush to Arik. Help him.

A man walking by gave Kale a startled look.

“It’s a video game,” I said to the guy.

The man shook his head and continued on his way.

A grunt came over the phone.

“Mr. Kearns and Deidre are with us.” Something crashed in the background. “What was that?”

“A telly. Apologies to Mr. Kearns.” A growl came across with a burst of static. “Don’t worry about us—” Something like glass shattered over Arik’s last word. “We’ll meet you there.”

“How many are adversaries?” Kale asked.

“Too many—” Clang!

Without thinking, I started for the exit, but Demos grabbed my arm. “Let’s go,” I said. “We can help—”

Kale frowned at me then said, “Do you need us to assist you?”

“No.” Crash! “We have it under control. Keep the others safe. That’s an order.” An end of call chime sounded.

“Now that’s talent,” said Deidre. “Talking on a mobile while sword fighting.”

I gaped at her. Arik was in danger and she admired his multitasking skill?

Kale pushed the off button on the screen. He grinned at Pop uncertainly. “Don’t worry about the mess. We have Cleaners who will fix everything.”

“I don’t care about the stuff,” Pop said. “I’m worried about that boy. Aren’t you?”

I turned to Kale, desperation lacing my words. “We have to help. He only has Sinead and Lei.”

Something flashed in Kale’s eyes when I mentioned Lei’s name. “Yeah, all right. We better check it out. Demos, you’ll come with me,” he said. “Where are Jaran and Nick? He can keep watch on the others.”

“We had a run in with a hunter,” Demos said. “We got separated. They should be here in a bit.”

“Shite.” Kale glanced down the street. “I can’t leave Gia alone with them. You’ll have to stay behind. I’ll go on my own.”

Like hell I’m staying. “You don’t know your way around Boston,” I said. “I’m going with you.”

“I’ve been here—” Kale hesitated when I gave a pleading look behind Pop’s back. “All right. I could use a guide.”

After some arguing, Pop agreed to let me go. Kale and I grabbed a taxi and had the man drop us off down the street from my apartment.

I adjusted the shield on my back and tied the trench’s belt tighter around my waist. Kale stopped under the apartment complex’s canopy. The place was quiet.

“How’d you know which building was mine?” I asked.

“I shadowed you the two days before you came to Asile. I was your guardian, so to speak.”

I swung a sidelong look at him. “You had to be bored. Watching me.”

“On the contrary, you have interesting habits.”

I opened my mouth to ask what habits, but the door swung open and a man in his seventies stepped out. Good thing, since I didn’t have my key.

“Oh, hello, Mr. Navarro,” I said as I dashed up the steps. He wore a dark suit with a white gardenia stuffed in the lapel.

“Gia.” He nodded, hobbling down the steps. “I have a date. I can’t talk. I’m late,” he answered my puzzled look as we passed each other.

“Have a good time,” I called after him and darted through the door Kale held open for me.

Kale strapped on his hidden blades as we ghosted up the long interior stairwell leading to the apartment. We reached the front door in a matter of seconds. A loud crash sounded upstairs. Kale and I grabbed for the doorknob at the same time. He let me open it as he readied for an attack.

It was as if something had blown up inside the apartment. Papers and couch stuffing, mingling with smoke, floated in the air. Several charred books lay beneath the cooked bookcase, and the overhead lamp hung from the ceiling by a single cord. The ornamental mirror in the entryway was in shattered pieces on the floor.

“Good thing Mr. Navarro’s hard of hearing,” I said.

When we reached the top of the stairs, it was eerily quiet.

Broken glass crunched underfoot as I eased into the apartment.

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