“It’s a gun,” Felicity said stupidly. Despite their abilities, the operatives of the Checquy were not permitted to carry firearms on British soil. Not unless they had actually been placed in a combat setting or were on a security detail. I suppose I’m both of those, Felicity thought. Of course, she had received rigorous training in shooting at the Estate, but it was startling to have a gun in her hand. A pistol, small enough to put in a handbag, large enough to put holes in someone.
“I inherited it from a friend,” said the Rook carelessly. “If I arranged for you to be officially issued one, I’d have to answer all sorts of questions. And I don’t want people looking too closely at you, or at Odette. We still don’t know what kind of resources the Antagonists have within the Checquy.” She glanced sourly at Ernst and then looked back at Felicity. “I can’t very well announce that you are being given a gun to kill treacherous Grafters if necessary, as that would send the wrong message.”
But an accurate one, thought Felicity. The world, which had seemed so complex and difficult a few hours ago, seemed infinitely worse now.
*
“They gave you guns?” Felicity heard Alessio’s incredulous voice from the living room. She squeezed her eyes shut and snuggled down under her blankets. It was far too early for her to be awake after being awake far too late.
“Shotguns, for hunting,” said Odette. “It’s not like I got a pair of Glocks.” At this, Felicity tensed and put out a hand to the bedside table, where the Glock that Rook Thomas had given her was resting in a drawer. It’s there, it’s safe, you can go back to sleep.
“Can I see them?” asked Alessio.
Can you shut up? For some reason, this morning the kid’s voice was cutting through her brain like a pubescent chain saw.
“The Checquy took them overnight,” said Odette. “And then today they’re going to a gun-storage place. I guess the shop stores them until you need them. Or until you get a place with a gun safe.”
“Were they cool?”
“Extremely,” said Odette. “Here, I took a picture on my phone.”
“Those are awesome!” squeaked Alessio in a register that put paid to Felicity going back to sleep that morning. Her entire nervous system seemed convinced that his warbling tones presaged some sort of attack. She put on a dressing gown and staggered out into the living room.
“Morning!” chirped Alessio.
“Yeahshutup,” mumbled Felicity. She picked up a cup of coffee from the table.
“That’s mine,” said Odette.
“Yeahshutup,” said Felicity, taking a long swig. She focused on Alessio. “It’s Monday, don’t you have an excursion to run out to?” He opened his mouth. “Don’t talk. Just nod or shake your head.” He nodded. “All right, good. I’m going to take a shower.” She took the coffee with her.
When she emerged from it, Alessio had gone and Odette was sitting at the table, her head bent over something. Felicity looked at her curiously. There was a stillness to the Grafter girl, except for her fingers, which were making tiny, barely visible movements.
She’s doing needlepoint, decided Felicity, but then she realized that the other woman was sewing up a raw steak that had been gashed open. The Pawn sat down across from her. As she watched, invisible thread bound the meat together so meticulously that only the thinnest of lines marked where it had been cut open. The focus, the control, the perfection were as magical as anything Felicity had ever seen.
After long minutes, Odette finished and tied an intricate knot that looped and whirled around her fingers like a cat’s cradle of silver. When she drew her fingers out, the knot shrank down on itself. She laid her hands down and sighed. Then she looked up, and Felicity saw that her pupils were massively dilated, so much that her eyes seemed black. She blinked several times, and once again, her eyes were blue.
“Impressive,” said Felicity.
“Thanks.”
“So, we should have a little talk.”
“I suppose so,” said Odette, looking at her postoperative steak. Felicity felt a little twinge of pity for her. She didn’t blame the Grafter girl for not telling her about the Antagonists — she’d clearly been under orders to keep it secret. The fact that her boyfriend and best friends had become international terrorists couldn’t have been easy on her either.
“I need a better understanding of the situation with your friends. What happened after you woke up in the hotel lobby?” asked Felicity.
And Odette began to tell the story. By the time she had woken up in the hotel lobby, realized where she was and what had happened, and been able to stop sobbing, her friends had already made their move.
“Pim must have had it all planned out beforehand,” she said. “Of course, the Broederschap knew immediately who had done it. Their fingerprints were all over the chapter house. Pim had even used his security pass to open the front door.” She shook her head. “They weren’t trying to hide what they were doing — they wanted everyone to know. I think that’s why they killed the house, as a statement.”
“I’m sorry,” said Felicity awkwardly. “Did you, um, know the house well?”
“Yes,” said Leliefeld. “But I didn’t find out about that until weeks later. When I woke up, I knew they’d left me, that they’d left the Broederschap, but that was all. I called Marie in Brussels and she immediately sent a car and some soldiers for me. They put me in the back and drove me to Belgium.”
The Broederschap had apparently been very suspicious of her and immediately placed her into a sort of quarantine. She had been screened very carefully, undergone multiple scans and exploratory surgery to check if she had had any new weapons implanted. They injected her with antibodies, “in case of any war bacteria that might be floating around in my system.” A number of existing implants had been removed — apparently, despite her surgical and scholarly role, she and the other Antagonists had given each other a variety of unorthodox enhancements. Felicity recalled the photos that she had seen in Odette’s bedroom and realized that her dossier had listed nothing that would permit her to breathe underwater or scale a cathedral. So much for keeping my eyes and my brain open, she thought.
Odette had been permitted to keep her spurs, but the venom reservoirs had been drained and the muscles that activated them had been carefully paralyzed. Hours and hours of questioning had ensued.
“It wasn’t violent interrogation,” Leliefeld assured her. “It was just Marie, Marcel, and I sitting on the veranda with endless cups of tea as they took me through everything I knew and everything I thought I knew and everything I didn’t know and everything I didn’t realize I’d known. God, it was tedious.
“Of course, there were serious doubts about whether I should be allowed any freedom at all. There was talk of putting me in a penal coma. I really can’t blame them. Everyone was already in shock over the announcement about the Checquy, and then this betrayal by their own children. And we were so close, my friends and I, the Broederschap leadership thought I had to be involved, that it was part of some plan.
“I was under supervision for weeks. I wasn’t allowed to do any work or research; I just sat around reading novels and watching movies. Then the attacks started, and it was even worse.” She took a long breath. “My friends were doing these — these awful things. I was so ashamed of them. And everyone was eyeing me like they expected me to blow myself up or something.
“But then they suddenly decided that they would trust me and let me be part of the delegation. So I received the next set of upgrades right before we left. Great-Uncle Marcel actually did the surgeries himself.”
“What were the upgrades?” asked Felicity, half fascinated, half nauseated. “Or is that a rude question to ask?”
“You don’t really get to be offended in the Broederschap,” said Leliefeld. “Everyone knows about everyone else’s anatomy.”