“Well, that was helpful,” Emily muttered. They sat in Brianna’s suite, Logan tearing the lining free of Ava’s suit jacket, feeling for the device that would code them in to the dark-haired man. It reminded Brianna too much of the letter, her mother’s handwritten confession sealed within the blanket of her prison cell, and she had to look away.
“What,” she said to her sister, “you were hoping there’d be nothing to find and we’d have to abandon the plan?”
Emily shrugged. “A little, yeah.”
Brianna smiled, but it was only half-hearted. “You may still get your wish.”
Logan’s knife clicked against the surface of the polished wood table, and he drew a thin, credit-card-like device from within the material. He held it up for a moment, examining, and then his gaze met Aern’s.
“What?” Brianna said. “What is it?”
Logan gave her an apologetic smile. “A simple two-way transmitter. We can track it in about five minutes.”
She shook her head, not understanding. “Why is that bad?”
Logan laid the thin black square on the remnants of Ava’s jacket. “Because it means he doesn’t care if anyone finds him.”
Emily cursed, moving to stand, and Aern reached for the device. “I’ll take this down to Cooper. Brianna’s already had a chance to check him out.” He wouldn’t risk telling anyone else. Not after Ava.
“Just the eight of us,” Brianna said, knowing Wesley was still too hurt to join. He’d been healing well, and he was awake, but the shadow had broken so much inside of him. He was lucky to be alive. “And Logan’s team,” she added, finding his hand with hers.
Aern nodded, glancing at the device once more, and Logan brushed his thumb over Brianna’s palm. “Are you sure about this, Bri? It’s not too late to change your mind.”
She took a steadying breath, said, “Yes.” Because they were wrong. So wrong. They couldn’t see what she’d seen, didn’t know the extent of their situation. But Brianna knew. She’d lived the visions and met the future. The dark-haired man was the least of their problems.
And it was too late to change anything.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Shadows
Callan stood before a group of fifteen men and women, hands clasped casually behind his back, slick charcoal suit a contrast to the standard-issue Kevlar-blend uniform of his team. The corner of his mouth twitched at the idea of a team, as if somehow this assembly of shadows shared his goal. He studied their movement, watching as they sparred with one another, feeling their intent before they’d even made the strike. Two of them were a danger, too strictly adhering to the ancients’ rule and not easily swayed. He would have to make arrangements for their dismissal, push them into some behavior that would cost them the job.
There were three with only a talent for fire, seven strong and well-rounded fighters, and one with the ability to spike. She was not as strong as the last one had been, but she would do. It didn’t take much of an electrical pulse to get your point across, and they really only needed to disable a few monitors and the central power stations.
“Break,” Callan ordered, watching sidelong as one of the men held his power a heartbeat too long, punishing his opponent for a round well fought. To anyone else, it might have seemed unintentional, merely a slow response. But Callan sensed the truth. He pushed the man, causing him to smile smugly, and his sparring partner narrowed her eyes. She wouldn’t challenge him now, but there would be a private resolution later. And if he was lucky, only one more undesirable to remove from the team.
Callan gestured toward the man standing near the far wall and explained he’d have the plans for the layout of the property they intended to invade. They were to learn the area, memorize the routes, and report back the following morning. He was about to dismiss the group, eager to reach up and loosen his collar, to finally be free of the task that was wearing on him, when he caught movement on one of the monitors out of the corner of his eye. He thought for a moment he must have imagined it. But there on the screen that displayed the street near the south gate was a thin, tow-head girl, jacket pulled tight around her in the brisk wind.
He might have cursed, but he seemed to have lost his breath. His chest had clenched at the sight of her, at the absolute impossibility of it. He didn’t have the slightest idea what was happening, but he knew he had to stop it before she got them all killed.
He snapped back to himself, searching out the men in the control room with his power. He pushed hard, a simple command, and then brushed through the minds of the group in front of him. He would have done more, but he could see she was nearing, would too soon reach the heavily guarded entrance. He couldn’t help but wonder what she was doing, some far-off part of him questioning whether he was being tricked, if this was a test by the ancients.