I had to admit Sunday Six were actually good live, even though Eli seemed distracted. I still wasn’t feeling cheerful enough to dance in my seat like Lydia, but I did teach Takumi the words to some of the choruses.
To finish the set, they played my favorite song of theirs. As it built to the end, Eli jumped off the stage, mic in hand. He crooned to a few tables before making his way back to ours.
“In the name of loooooove!” As he hit the highest note, punctuated with a bang on the bass drum, the crowd burst into applause. With another of those sad smiles right at me, he bowed to our table. Whistles and cheers sounded across the room.
Eli took a few seconds to stand. When he did, I flashed him a grin, a genuine one this time, but he didn’t smile back. In fact, his expression was oddly tortured.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, and set the microphone on the table next to him.
I sat forward, confused, and felt the rest of the room do the same.
And then Eli Abraham pulled a gun out of the waistband of his skinny jeans. He raised it at our table. And he shot Takumi Mikado in the chest.
CHAPTER 8
There was a moment of complete silence before the room burst into screams. People stampeded toward the doors, chairs were knocked over, well-dressed guests were shoved to the floor.
I was still sitting, stock-still, not least because Takumi had collapsed onto me. He made a gurgling noise in his throat, and behind his glasses, his eyes were glassy, blinking.
Guards rushed Eli from both sides. Jack was the first to knock him to the ground.
Eli raised his gun. “Jack!” I screamed. But Eli pointed it at his own head and pulled the trigger.
And then Jack was pinning down the dead lead singer of the world’s most famous pop group and I had a guy I’d just met dying in my arms.
Takumi sagged across my lap, his flop of hair fallen over his eyes. I clapped a hand over the wound on his chest. There was so much blood, I couldn’t see where the bullet had actually hit. “It’s okay,” I said blindly, my voice thin, reedy, desperate. “It’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.”
He wouldn’t be okay. He blinked twice more, staring up at me, and then his eyes slipped closed and his rasping breaths stopped.
Hands were lifting him off me, and then I was being bundled outside and into a boat. Only when we were zipping away down the Grand Canal did I realize that my hands and my white dress were caked in blood.
? ? ?
Eli acted alone, they were saying. The other band members realized something had been bothering him for a few days, but had no idea what was going to happen. How the Order had managed to coerce Eli no one knew, but it was clear they’d killed two birds with one stone. Literally. A boy who could be the One and another important Circle member, both in spectacular fashion.
Back at our hotel, security stashed me in the suite of rooms they’d secured for us. As soon as I’d showered and put on clean clothes, I started working on a way out. Maybe we should have canceled our plans after what had just happened, but Takumi Mikado’s blood still felt like it was all over me. Eli Abraham’s apology, and his odd assertion that I could change things, had been burned into my mind.
Following the clues felt more important than ever.
But now there were even more guards outside my door and new ones posted at either end of the hallway. My original plan to sneak off once they left me here wouldn’t work. I crossed to the window and pushed aside the heavy silk curtains. No way. It was four stories to the canal below.
For a few minutes, I wore a path in front of the door. On top of everything else, they’d spirited me away before I could be sure Jack wasn’t hurt, and he hadn’t responded to my texts. I tapped my phone with my fingernails, faster and faster. And then I heard Jack’s voice in the hall. I stopped. He wasn’t supposed to be here. But it was definitely him, chatting like everything was normal. Relief flooded through me.
And then, from down the hall, a loud boom. A flurry of exclamations and running footsteps, then Jack saying, “Go. I’ll watch her door.” A few seconds later, two knocks, a pause, two more. The signal we’d agreed on.
I grabbed my bag and opened the door a crack.
Jack stood, his back to me, looking down the hall. Plausible deniability. If this was caught on camera, he could pretend he hadn’t seen me sneak out.
“Three doors down on the left,” he murmured, not turning around. “Emergency exit. I turned off the alarm.”
“Okay,” I whispered, easing the door shut behind me and padding down the plushly carpeted hallway. I pushed open the door to the emergency stairs and hurried down, emerging into a narrow alley between buildings. I listened for a moment, then let the door shut behind me and shrank back into the shadows halfway down the block.
The door opened a few minutes later. I went as still as I could, just in case—and Jack stuck his head out and looked around. I waited to make sure he was alone, then ran to him.
Before I could say a word, he swept me up in his arms, and I let my guard down for the first time since dinner, the shock I’d been holding back finally washing over me in waves.