Brianna knew they were healing fast, and though the shadows couldn’t match their speed, it seemed they surpassed the Seven in durability. She felt absently for the older scar that marked her own side, no more than a thin ridge of pale skin now, and couldn’t help but recall the battle with Morgan. It had seemed like such an end-all at the time, a fight that was larger than life, that would lead to the death of so many humans and destruction of the Seven. The notion had been right, she supposed, if only for what these shadows had planned. But Morgan was nothing compared to them.
The thought gave her pause as she watched Aern, because Morgan had been just as strong as his brother. The power her mother had freed in him had given Morgan that same sense, the same ability to sway. She could recall him now, the way he’d seen with no more than a glance that Aern had created the union with her sister, that Emily was the one. He’d understood, completely and without reservation, that he’d been beaten. He’d not given up, by any means, and that was why he’d thrust that last thought into Aern. He’d made his brother stab her, because if he couldn’t win, then he would destroy any chance the rest of them had. But that wasn’t all Brianna was thinking, because now that she knew the shadows were after her, specifically her, she couldn’t help but wonder why Aern’s knife, at Morgan’s command, had found its way into her side and not Emily’s. Why they wanted so badly to kill a prophet. And how they were hiding it from her.
Ava moaned, coming awake again, her eyes barely opening to her audience. Aern spoke to her, his tone low and even, and then withdrew his hands from her skin. He turned to Emily and Brianna with a nod.
“There you go,” Emily whispered. “Ask her anything you want.”
Brianna moved closer to the woman, stopping at Aern’s side where he stood near the edge of her bed. She felt the others move too, Logan and Emily, all of them nearing to hear the shadow’s confession.
“Who are you?” Brianna said, gaze boring into the dull dark eyes of her attacker. The power was gone. She was empty.
The woman’s brow drew down in pain and she whispered out a hoarse, “Ava.”
Brianna glanced at Aern, who lifted his shoulder in the slightest of shrugs. The woman couldn’t lie, but if she believed the reality she’d been swayed to believe, it would feel truthful to her.
Brianna asked, “Why are you here?” and the woman blinked, as if only then realizing she was being questioned.
“To watch,” she answered. “To watch the prophet, to watch the chosen.”
The others couldn’t have lied to her about that, they couldn’t sway her from her purpose and still allow her to complete the task. “For whom?” Brianna said. “Who do you report to?”
“Jackson,” she answered, but her eyes squeezed shut tight. “No. No, he has another name.” Her head rocked from side to side, searching.
“Callan,” Aern said quietly.
The woman’s gaze cleared as she nodded. “Yes, Callan.” Her eyes found Brianna. “His name is Callan.”
“What do you know of him?” Brianna said.
She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came. Aern placed his hand over her arm and after a moment, she said, “Your contact is Callan. Report only to Callan.”
Brianna didn’t know if the woman was repeating back her orders, or if something was broken inside of her. She knew it didn’t always work right—she’d seen it happen to some of Morgan’s men; the way they’d formed blank spots, mental blocks, and couldn’t always find the thoughts they were looking for. “Who else is there, Ava? Who does Callan report to?”
“She doesn’t know,” Aern said. “And she’s scared.”
“We aren’t going to hurt you,” Brianna offered, but Aern shifted beside her and she realized that was not what he’d meant. The woman wasn’t afraid of them, not of Brianna or the Seven. She was afraid of Callan.
“He can’t get you here,” Brianna promised. “Ava, we need to find this Callan. Can you tell us where to go? How you contact him?”
She shook her head. “Only when he says. Only when they’re in danger.”
“Ava,” Aern whispered, “they are in danger. How do we find Callan?”
She swallowed hard, closing her eyes against the pain, and Brianna could see they were losing her. She might wake again, but they weren’t getting very far with this. “How?” Brianna repeated. “Tell us how, Ava.”
She rattled off a number, too many digits for a phone, not enough for coordinates. “Where is the device?” Logan said from behind them, his tone level.
“Jacket lining,” the woman mumbled, never opening her eyes.
Aern gave Brianna a look, warning her that the woman was fading to sleep, and Brianna leaned closer, squeezing her own hand over the woman’s arm beside Aern’s. “Who is Acacius?” she said. “You recognized his name, Ava. What do you know?”
Her wince was barely perceptible, face too slack to form the expression. Her breath hitched before falling into a shallow rhythm. “Never speak of the disgraced. That name is dead to us.”
***